And Some of Us are Damned
by coinoperatedbecca
Summary: [Complete] [Falls between The Light at the End and Sailing Ships]. Just because the Graham sisters are adults, doesn't make them any less dysfunctional.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Again, I am merely borrowing Harper Lee's wonderful world!

A/N: I'm not going to lie, it was probably a mistake that I started this… I'll give you a fair warning that my updating will most likely be very erratic at best. However, I had this idea burning in the back of my head for a little while and I figured I might as well start it before I lose any inspiration (plus this allows me to be creative while school's in session). This first chapter is a little slow, but I wanted to lay a foundation for the rest of the story, so the rest will (hopefully) be more exciting than this! I hope you all enjoy, and I'm just going to apologize in advance for how slowly this will be updated :).

-o-o-o-

When the telephone rang at half past three in the morning, Jean had been awake to answer it. In fact, due to Jeremy's bout of the flu, she hadn't been able to get a full night's sleep in nearly three nights. Jeremy, who was usually a healthy and lively little thing, demanded to be held at all times and would only sleep if his head was nestled in his mother's chest while she rocked him. For the first eleven months of his life he had never had any bouts of illness like this, so Jean preferred to spend sleepless nights with her son rather than allowing his illness to get worse.

She couldn't help but to be irrationally angry when the phone rang that night (well, morning) because Jeremy had just fallen asleep and the shrill ring from the phone had probably hurt his ears, making the poor thing cry. Sighing, she hoped the phone hadn't awoken her husband (who needed to get up for work in just a few short hours), Jean bounced her baby on her hip as she made her way to the phone. Hastily, she picked up the receiver and pressed it to her ear. "Yes?" She asked impatiently, though she instantaneously felt guilty afterwards.

"Sorry ma'am," the operator said on the other line. "You got a call comin' in from Montgomery, do you want to accept it?"

Now Jean was confused. It was unlike her mother, aunts or sisters to call at this absurd hour and she couldn't help but to think that something might be wrong. "Yes, I'll accept it." She said slowly. "Thank you." She added quickly, hoping it would make up for her previous spell of rudeness.

There was silence for a few moments before she heard the two lines connect. "Finch residence," she said, trying not to sound tired.

"Eugenia?" Her mother asked, though she had to have known it was her second daughter on the other line.

"Yes, mama?" Jean asked, finding herself becoming alarmed.

"Did I wake you?" Edith sounded different. Had her mother been crying? 

"No, mama." Jean quickly explained. "The baby's sick."

"Poor thing," Edith Graham said slowly before sighing sadly. "Honey, listen…"

"What happened?" Jean asked, a pit of nervousness formed in her stomach. Her mother sniffed.

"Charlotte," Edith said slowly. "Honey, Charlotte's dead."

A harsh gasp escaped Jean's throat, startling Jeremy once again. Probably sensing that his mother was upset, Jeremy began crying again. Biting her lower lip, she leaned herself against the wall and didn't even attempt to calm him down. "Mama, how?" She asked. While she was still in shock, she couldn't yet bring herself to cry over the death of her older sister. She was simply too shocked.

"I'm not sure," her mother said, her voice cracking. "I'm at the hospital with your Aunt Bea now, but there's nothin' they can do for her. She was gone by the time they brought her in."

Jeremy cried louder as Jean shut her eyes, hitting her head against the wall. "I don't get it," she said stupidly.

"They think she had a heart attack," Edith said bitterly. "I was stayin' with her and the girls because Clara and Libby are sick—they must have what the baby has, and I reckon she was goin' downstairs to get something when her heart gave out and she must've nearly snapped her neck on her way down." Edith's voice sounded strained with emotion, as though she desperately wanted to cry but couldn't bring herself to do it. The thought of her mother, who had always been the pillar of strength in Jean's life, breaking down into tears was enough to make Jean cry. Resting her chin on Jeremy's head, Jean sniffed. Tears fell from her eyes, but seeing that she had no free hand to wipe them away she was forced to let them run down her face.

"Don't cry," Edith said quickly (almost harshly), though she was actually trying to soothe her daughter. From down the hall she heard her bedroom door creak open. Atticus was awake. Desperately, she tried to wipe her face with her shoulder. Jeremy continued to cry louder, and at that moment she felt bad for her baby. He was sick and tired and probably just wanted to be rocked and here he was being forced to stay awake. Looking down the hall, she saw Atticus groggily making his way towards her, looking confused as to why she would be on the phone at this hour. As he got closer and noticed her crying, he looked alarmed.

"What happened?" He mouthed to her as he quickly took the baby in his arms. Though Jeremy was still discontent, his crying had stopped. Quickly, Jean wiped at her eyes.

"Are you still there?" Edith asked.

"Yes," Jean replied, clearing her throat. "I'm here."

"I know the baby's sick, but I need you to come as soon as you can." Her mother said grimly.

"We'll leave as quickly as possible." Jean said. Though she was looking straight ahead at the wall, she noticed Atticus watching her, a perplexed expression on his face.

"I need to call Louise." Edith said, sighing.

"Do you want me to do it?"

"I think I should." Edith said. Jean sighed at length, and before she went to hang up the receiver, her mother cleared her throat again. "Eugenia?"

"Yes?"

There was a pause on the other end. "I love you."

Jean felt bad for being so taken aback by this. Though Edith never said it much, Jean knew her mother loved her—the fact that she felt inclined to say it made Jean feel uneasy. Swallowing, Jean pressed her fingers against her eyes. "I know that," she blurted out without thinking. Quickly, she coughed. "Mama, I love you too." She added quickly, hoping she hadn't hurt her already vulnerable mother. Edith hung up the receiver and Jean spent a moment listening to the silence on the other end before hanging her phone up. Sighing, she rubbed at her eyes. She hadn't realized how _tired_ she was until then.

"Sweet?" Atticus asked carefully. "What happened?"

"Charlotte died," she responded matter-of-factly as she attempted to make her way to their bedroom. Using his free hand, Atticus prevented her from going any further.

"What?" He asked, no longer sounding tired. Resignedly, she rested her head on his chest. She could feel the warmth of his hand running up and down her back, yet she still shivered under his touch. Maybe she was coming down with whatever the baby had. Or maybe she was just so sad everything was cold to her.

It had been _so long_ since Jean had felt the sting of grief associated with loss. It had been so long since her last miscarriage, and _seven_ years since her nephew died, but she had allowed herself to become naïve again. The immense amount of joy that came with her marriage and the birth of her son overpowered any feeling of grief and sadness she had once felt in the past. The happiness she now had in her life left her completely unprepared for this moment.

Jean hardly considered herself religious, but maybe this was a way of God telling her that she had been _too_ happy and had become delusional. Maybe Charlotte's death was a warning of sorts; one telling her she better be careful or else she could lose far more than she already did.

"I need to go," she nearly croaked, lifting her head up. Atticus kissed her forehead.

"It's four in the morning," he told her. "Try to sleep some and we can leave for Montgomery once you wake up."

She swallowed and shook her head, fresh tears burning the backs of her eyes. "No," she said insistently. "I need to go now."

Her husband gave her a sympathetic look. "Sweet," he said warmly, his hand still pressing against her back. Although Jeremy had stopped crying, he had not been able to find comfort in his father's arm and began to whine out of discomfort. " _Jeremy_ should sleep for a few hours before we go anywhere."

He was right. What kind of mother would she be if she let her son grow sicker and sicker when she could've given him the rest he needed? She sniffed, and nodded in agreement.

"Give him to me," she said, attempting to take Jeremy. "I'll rock him some more."

"Get some sleep," he told her gingerly, pressing her against him. "I'll take care of him."

She wanted to object, but found she was too tired to do so. Grimly, she nodded again as she drowsily attempted to break away from her husband. He gently held her for a few more minutes, and before he made his way to Jeremy's nursery, he put two fingers under her chin and tilted her head upward tenderly. "It'll be fine," he told her before kissing her. "It will all be fine."

She gave him a pathetic sad smile before agreeing with him and retiring to their room. She lay herself down on the bed and closed her eyes, but couldn't sleep.

Jean tried to remember the last time she saw Charlotte laugh. Something deep within her wanted to say that her sister hadn't laughed since before Simon died, but she thought that had to be an exaggeration. Charlotte had to have laughed at _something_ in the seven years since her son died. Why, she had two little girls who were full of curiosity and always doing something—Charlotte had to have laughed at something they did. There had to have been something that gave Charlotte joy even after Simon was taken from her.

Before having Jeremy, Jean really couldn't empathize much with Charlotte about the loss of Simon. Jean herself had been very torn apart by Simon's death (she was the one who had been watching him—how could she not be damaged?), but her pain was very different than Charlotte's. Jean watched Charlotte deteriorate and become a shell of the woman she had once been and Jean couldn't help but to be frustrated at that. "She lost a _child_ , Eugenia." Her mother would say to her time and time again after Simon died, but Jean still couldn't understand why her sister was behaving the way she was. As the years passed and Charlotte's grieving still persisted, Jean wondered why her sister couldn't at least find joy in her two living children.

And then Jeremy was born.

Until his birth, Jean didn't think she wanted children. She didn't think she was responsible enough to be the most important person in a child's life, and she frankly didn't think she could trust herself raising a child. But she was young then. Young and stupid. Thankfully, as she grew older she found Atticus and he was able to help her forego a majority of the guilt and anxiety she felt regarding Simon, and she found that she actually did want to have children.

The moment she took her son in her arms, she fell in love. She also came to understand why Charlotte's grief for Simon was so strong even after six years. Jean realized that the love a mother has for her child is the strongest form of love there is, and when they're taken from you it's the worst form of heartbreak there is. If anything had ever happened to _her_ son, Jean would be inconsolable, she would be like Charlotte. It didn't matter that she had Atticus, if something took her baby away from her she would never be the same again. Having her own child gave her a whole new understanding for her sister, and she came to have immeasurable respect for her.

The only thing is, Jean never told Charlotte this. In the past year since Jeremy was born, Jean never took her melancholic sister aside and told her how she suddenly _understood_ Charlotte, and how it was okay that she was grieving because this was a heinous wound that could never be healed.

And now she couldn't tell her.

She never expected Charlotte to die so young. Though she never said this aloud, something deep within her _knew_ that her sister probably welcomed death when it came. She knew that her sister had spiraled into a depression so deep that even her two daughters couldn't bring her out of it no matter how hard they tried. It didn't make matters any better that her husband basically abandoned his family after his son's death and that there were nasty rumors circulating around Montgomery that he had found himself a mistress wherever he went. After losing so much, Charlotte probably figured that she was going lose everything else she had so she refused to attach herself to anything anymore.

Her mother had said it was probably a heart attack that killed Charlotte, which made Jean think of her father. Rowan Graham died of a heart attack in his backyard when Jean was ten. Her sister Louise had been the one to find him, and when she realized something was wrong she of course came running to Jean. Jean could imagine his lifeless body lying in the backyard. Sighing in frustration, she pressed her thumbs into her eyes to get the image out of her mind.

She wasn't sure how long she had been laying there when Atticus came to the bed. Not knowing whether she was asleep or not, he slowly eased himself into the bed and turned on his side so he could look at her. She removed her hands from her face and looked back at her husband. "Jeremy?" She asked, her voice sounding dry.

"I got him to sleep, though I'm not sure for how long." He told her. "Did you sleep?"

"I don't remember Charlotte laughing." She informed him, ignoring his question, as he rested his hand on her head.

"You're just tired," he told her as she buried her head in his chest. "I'm sure you'll remember, soon."

Stiffly, she shook her head. "I don't even think Libby _ever_ saw her laugh." She responded in a muffled voice.

"Maybe you weren't there to notice," Atticus suggested, trying to be helpful.

"Maybe." She replied tiredly, though she really wanted to disagree with him.

"You should get some sleep, sweet." He told her.

"My mother sounded awful," Jean observed.

"I reckon she has the right to."

"I wonder what Charlotte was doing."

"What?"

"She fell down the stairs when she had her heart attack," Jean informed him. "She nearly broke her neck…I wonder what she was doin'."

"That's something we won't get to know, sweet."

"I don't think I can believe she's gone 'till I actually get to Montgomery."

"I'm sorry, sweet." Atticus says as she attempted to bury her face deeper into his chest. She didn't answer, instead she inhaled the scent of Atticus' shirt. In the nearly four years that had passed since she married him, that smell became so familiar to her. It became _home_. Atticus Finch steadily entered her life, and once she was fully immersed with him, she found that she couldn't imagine her life without him. She didn't want to imagine it.

As a child, Jean wasn't one to fantasize about her wedding or married life like other girls her age did. She never had the goal of finding herself a husband and having babies… it just _happened_. But it didn't happen in the way she expected it to. She watched as the girls in her neighborhood and the girls she went to boarding school with found young, strapping husbands who instantly made these women their trophy wives. She lost count of the number of teas and lunches she went to where the women rambled on and on about how they took great joy in catering after their husbands and being shown off like some sort of prized possession. Jean couldn't help but notice that these women were always expected to be seen but not heard. They were raised not to have any opinions and to always be obedient towards their husbands. Jean detested it.

However, though she didn't want that type of life she couldn't help but to expect it. Her youth was spent with a broad boy named Emmett, who was the stereotypical man in the fact that he always wanted to appear tough and always tried to parade Jean around as if she was some sort of item (she was proudly too stubborn to let him do so). Despite the fact that he frequently drove her mad, she always thought she was going to marry _him_. It wasn't until the year Simon died and she and Louise were assigned to take care of their ailing grandfather did she even begin to realize that her life wasn't confined to being some man's "pet".

She didn't come to realize how _relieved_ Atticus made her feel until she married him. In many senses, her husband was old fashioned (though at the same time he could hardly be compared to the men her own age). He slowly let her in his private world, and courted her for nearly a year before he proposed to her. Despite the relative haste he took in asking for her hand in marriage, it took him nearly four years to marry her. Though he didn't give his reasons for waiting to marry her, Jean suspected it was because she was so _young_. She was only twenty-one when he proposed, and she thought that maybe he wanted some time to see if he was going to be marrying a woman or a child (in hindsight she couldn't blame him—the year they got married was the year he turned forty, after all). Within the four years where she was confined to Montgomery, waiting for him to come on the weekends or whenever the legislature was in session, Jean found that her love for him grew with each passing day.

Maybe it was because he didn't treat her like an object. Even before they were married he always appreciated her opinions and input no matter what the subject was. Whenever he brought her to a social gathering, whether it be in Montgomery or Maycomb, he never hovered over her in an overbearing way. He never treated her like she was some lower-class citizen who was only created to stand by his side and look pretty. Unlike other men, Atticus Finch allowed his wife to be herself unapologetically—in fact, he would be gravely upset if Jean dumbed herself down to please others. Within her marriage Jean found that she was able to grow rather than be hindered and while she found herself fulfilling some of the more conventional roles a wife takes on, it was because she _wanted_ to, not because Atticus forced her to.

She felt the warmth of his hand move towards the small of her back and in response she wrapped one of her arms around him. "Did I wake you?" He asked softly, almost sorrowfully.

"I'm not asleep." She mumbled softly (though maybe she had dozed off for a few moments).

"You," he started, but then he stopped himself. She knew he was going to tell her that she should probably get some sleep, but he usually was not one to tell her what to do. "We'll leave when the baby wakes up." He amended, and she couldn't help but to smile.

"Thank you, sweet." She mumbled before dozing off once again.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Louise may seem a bit like older Scout because in the perfect fictional world inside my head, Louise played a big role in forming Scout into a little spinster like her ;) (plus it's super fun to write).

-o-o-o-

Edith wasn't home when Jean, Atticus and Jeremy arrived in Montgomery early the following afternoon. Instead, she found her twenty-two year old sister, Harriet, tending over Clara and Elizabeth (who was more frequently called Libby). Jean's nieces were almost eleven and seven and despite the fact that neither of them were told anything, they knew something was wrong.

"Where's nanny?" Libby asked meekly, her throat sounding raw from being sick. Jean wondered if the little girl was even curious about where her mother was. Did Charlotte even spend time with her children?

When Jean had arrived to Charlotte's home, it was obvious that Harriet was overwhelmed. Her eyes were red-rimmed and the usually collected girl looked terribly disheveled. She just about shrieked with relief when she saw Jean coming up the porch steps and took her older sister in a hug so tight it cracked Jean's back. Jean had still been in a daze from her lack of sleep and found that she couldn't devise a coherent response for her obviously-distraught younger sister.

At Harriet's insistence, Clara and Libby were camped out in the parlor rather than resting in their own rooms. This caused both girls to be even more baffled, considering the fact that Harriet just couldn't bring herself to explain everyone's odd behavior to them. When Libby asked where Edith was, Harriet coughed, unsure of what to do.

Jean, who was cradling a sleeping Jeremy in her arms looked at her youngest niece sympathetically. "There was an emergency, dear." She explained in a level tone.

"What kinda emergency?" Libby asked wearily. "Is nanny hurt?"

"No, sweet." She said, swallowing. It suddenly occurred to her that nobody informed her nieces of their mother's death. "Your mama had an accident." She began slowly, watching as Clara sat up.

"Is that what that noise was last night?" Clara asked, her voice also raspy. "I heard somethin' happenin' but nanny wouldn't let me out of bed."

Jean looked at her niece solemnly. "Yes, sweet." She said simply as she observed Harriet beginning to chew on her fingernails.

"Is she gonna be okay?" Clara asked. Jean watched Atticus, who had been settled in a chair on the opposite end of the room, sit up.

"No," Jean said definitively, causing Harriet to look even more distressed. From his seat, Atticus watched her cautiously. "Your mother had a heart attack last night."

"Is she dead?" Clara asked. Jean wondered if she didn't sound concern because her throat was too raw, or because she really wasn't concerned. Libby pushed herself closer to her sister. Her cheeks, which were already flushed from sickness, turned a brighter shade of red. Jean gave her nieces a sad smile.

"She is, sweet." She said, almost cringing at how nonchalantly she told her nieces that their mother was dead.

She expected them to cry, or at least look sad. Instead, the two girls just gazed at her with expressionless faces. Were they so shocked they couldn't cry for their mother? Was their flu making it hard for them to think clearly? Or were they just so used to their mother's relative absence in their lives that they were simply unaffected by her death?

"Where are we gonna go?" Libby asked after a few moments of silence.

Without thinking, Jean responded: "with me."

Atticus' eyebrows raised quickly as Harriet coughed. Not minding them, Jean kept her attention on Clara and Libby. The two girls glanced at each other and looked back at their oldest aunt. "What do you mean with you?" Clara asked thoughtfully.

"I mean that I'll take care of you," Jean responded firmly as she adjusted Jem in her arms. "You don't need to worry, you always have a place you belong."

Her nieces had it hard as it was. Why, Clara had watched Simon jump from that branch and snap his neck on that dreadful day (she was so traumatized she didn't speak for a month) and Libby didn't have a normal childhood even when Charlotte was alive. At that moment Jean decided that her nieces were no longer going to live this strange life under the watchful eye of Edith— _she_ would mother them. She took care of them all of the time when they were babies and she always loved them with her entire heart, so it was really no question that she would take them back to Maycomb with her. They'd probably like it there, it was quaint and quiet and so different from the life they knew in Montgomery. This would be a chance for them to start over, to have a real childhood. Jem could be like their little brother and they could be raised closely with any other children she and Atticus had…

"I don't think nanny would like that," Clara said, frowning a little. "She's been like our mama since we were babies."

Jean gave Clara a sad smile. "Well, would _you_ like it?" She asked, realizing that she couldn't take them away if they didn't want it.

Clara nodded slowly. "I think so."

"That's all that matters," Jean assured her. "The only thing that matters is that you two are happy, nothing else."

Atticus and Harriet were both watching her, and for some reason she felt her cheeks flush hot. Maybe she hadn't thought through what she had told her niece but that didn't matter. To her, the rational choice was fulfilling her sisterly duty to Charlotte and taking care of her children. Atticus sat there, his eyebrows still raised at her but he was otherwise expressionless, so Jean really couldn't tell if he agreed with her or not. Harriet, on the other hand, had turned a deep shade of red and continued to bite at her fingernails as she observed her sister. She didn't need to say anything for Jean to know what was on her mind.

Edith was not going to be happy about this.

Edith Graham was a woman who was always set in her ways. In her mind she had plans for her sisters, daughters, and grandchildren and was going to see them through even if the people in question objected to them. To Edith, _she_ was the one who knew what was right for her family so she was going to ignore _their_ desires to do what was "best" for them. After being such a pivotal part of Clara and Libby's lives for the past seven years, Edith wasn't going to let them leave her so quickly.

Jean didn't care. She was a mother now, too, and she was also an important part of her niece's lives. She thought that maybe it would be best for them to be with someone more maternal and nurturing and Jean knew that all of them would get along great. She almost felt ashamed to think this, but maybe they'd even be happier with Jean and Atticus than with Edith.

"Where's Louise?" Jean asked Harriet, trying to divert everyone's attention. Finally Harriet stopped biting at her nails (Jean was just about ready to slap her) and sighed.

"She was off in Boston or somewhere up North," Harriet explained. "But mama was able to get a hold of her at four this morning, and she left right away so we're hopin' she'll be here late tonight."

"I see," Jean said, remembering her last conversation with Louise. Out of all four of them, Jean and Louise were the ones who had been inseparable. Even now, the two of them telephoned each other at least once a week, so Jean felt a hint of shame in forgetting how Louise informed her of this trip. Louise was the Graham sister who was the flightiest of all of them, and had herself a line of beaus and could hardly be found in Montgomery (even though that's where she lived). "She said…"

She trailed off, noticing Atticus observing Clara and Libby. While Clara had remained composed even after hearing of her mother's death, Libby was becoming visibly upset. "Eliza?" Atticus asked her, using his own nickname for her (he always used to tease her and call her Eliza Doolittle from _Pygmalion_ ).

"Yes, sir?" She asked in a small voice. Libby had known Atticus nearly her entire life, and had always taken to calling him _sir_ rather than Uncle Atticus.

"Would you like to come sit in my lap?" He asked her, flashing her a small smile. Though she still looked sad, Libby scurried out from the blankets she was cuddled in and ran towards her uncle, settling herself in his lap. Gently, he smoothed some disheveled hairs away from her forehead. Just faintly, Jean heard him murmur: "It's all alright, sweet," to her under his breath.

-o-o-o-

Edith didn't return home until that evening. Despite the fact that the woman looked utterly exhausted, she immediately threw herself into organizing what needed to be done. She had to pack up Charlotte's house, plan the funeral, and had to call even more family and friends to let them know of her passing, among other things. She hadn't mentioned Big Simon in any of this, but it was in the back of everyone's mind that he would need to be informed of his wife's passing.

What if he wanted to take the girls to Mississippi (or wherever the hell he was) with him? What if, after seven years, he finally stepped up and became the father he was supposed to be. Personally, Jean wanted to be the one to call him so that she could hear the guilt in his voice once he discovered the wife he abandoned was dead. But what if he had so far removed himself from the situation that he didn't feel guilty? Rumors circulated around Montgomery (and of course even made their way to Stephanie Crawford in Maycomb) that Simon was living with a mistress and even had an illegitimate child. It was quite possible that he let go of his guilt a long time ago and was too happy indulging in his own desires to even care that his wife was dead all the way in Alabama.

Selfishly, Jean hoped that he wouldn't want to take Clara and Libby away with him. She was almost certain that she'd never see them again if he did, and they held such a special place in her heart that she wasn't sure if she could bear it if they were torn away from her. While their life at home with Charlotte was probably desolate, Simon probably wouldn't know how to pay attention to them if he had them again. They would still be alone.

That's why Jean wanted them in Maycomb with her. She knew what it was like being raised by Edith, and she knew her nieces deserved better than that (especially after losing their mother). This wasn't to say Edith was a bad mother. She made sure her children were fed, well-educated, healthy and taken care of. She provided her daughters with everything they needed and was constantly looking out for them (though _that_ was sometimes quite the burden). But Edith hardly ever told her daughters she loved them and was rather cold in her mothering techniques. Especially now, Clara and Libby needed a mother figure who told them she loved them and took care of them in a gentler, more nurturing way.

And Jean could do that. It wouldn't be hard for her at all, after all _she_ helped take care of them when they were babies. She loved them like they were her own, and it would so easy for her to assimilate them into the everyday life of Maycomb. They could all be like a happy family, it was perfect.

Except, she was the only one who seemed to think that way. Once Edith arrived at Charlotte's house, she insisted that they couldn't stay there and forced them all to come to her house instead. Luckily for the brood of drowsy adults and sick children, Edith lived just down the street (Edith _always_ needed to be close to Charlotte—even before they lost Simon) and it didn't take them long to get there. After feeding the children a light supper and sending them up to bed, the adults all decided that it'd be best for them to retire for the evening as well. They had a long couple days ahead of them.

Due to lack of space, Atticus and Jean were required to sleep in her and Charlotte's old room with Jeremy, which still had the twin beds they slept on as teenagers. The entire thing made Jean feel uneasy, but seeing as Clara and Libby were already in Harriet's room (leaving Harriet to sleep on the sofa), there wasn't any other options for them. Apprehensively, Jean looked around the room while sitting on the foot of her old bed.

"You alright?" Atticus asked as he sat beside her.

"Fine," she said, finally settling her eyes on Jeremy who was sleeping in a playpen in the middle of the room.

"Does this bring you back to the days of your girlhood?" He asked, trying to tease her. She forced herself to chuckle.

"Oh definitely," she replied almost sarcastically.

He sighed and gave her a weak smile. "You know," he said shuffling, as if what he was about to say was hard for him. "You shouldn't have said those things to Clara and Libby, about them living with us."

She turned so she could look at him better. "I thought it was the natural thing," she explained, looking at him with a baffled expression. "Do you not want them with us?"

"It's not that, sweet. It's just that we don't know what's going to happen—"

"That's exactly why we would take them in, to prevent more uncertainty."

"That's not logical."

"How is it not?" She asked, frowning. Hadn't this made sense to him like it had to her?

"What about Simon?" He asked, bringing up the last thing she even wanted to think about. "He's their _father_ —"

"He should've lost that right years ago," she responded as she crossed her arms.

"Just because he should have, doesn't mean he did." He said. He was using his courtroom voice—he _never_ used his courtroom voice with her. She knew he didn't mean anything by it, he was just trying to be logical and give his opinion, but it made her mad. "Besides that, what about your mother? If Simon doesn't take them then she'll surely want them to stay here. They go to school here, they have friends here—"

"Maycomb's an easy place to adapt to."

He gave her another sad smile. "Sweet," he said slowly, taking her hands in both of his. "They're young, they've just lost their mother and they need to be in the place—"

"If you don't want them to stay with us, that's all you need to say." She told him, trying to sound as level-headed as possible.

"I didn't say that," he responded.

"You didn't need to." She told him, standing up.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to make some tea," she declared, crossing the room to the door. "I'll be back."

He examined her for a moment and then sighed. "I'll be here." He told her as she left the room.

She wasn't sure why she was feeling so hurt. Maybe it was because she thought that Atticus would understand where she was coming from. He usually did; the two of them hardly ever quarreled and even when they did it couldn't really be considered an argument since they were both usually so level-headed. She figured he would've also thought that taking Clara and Libby to Maycomb would've been the best thing.

Or, maybe the root of everything was the fact that her sister died before she was supposed to and the two of them hadn't had a proper conversation in years.

She tried to remember the last thing she and Charlotte talked about, but her mind drew a blank. It was now becoming hard for Jean to even remember what life had been like before Simon died when Charlotte was her usual self, laughing and talking and not plagued by the loss of her son. Her only vivid memories of her sister were of Charlotte being withdrawn, sad.

For some reason, Edith's presence in the kitchen startled Jean. It shouldn't have—Edith was always known to go up to her room long after her family, even in times of distress such as this. Edith paid no mind to her daughter's reaction and merely pursed her lips and continued cleaning the countertops.

Ever since she was a child, Jean wondered why her mother was _constantly_ cleaning, even when it didn't seem appropriate for the situation. Perhaps it was a nervous tick of some sort, like she had to be tidying something or else she'd go crazy. As a child, Jean thought that she would come to understand her mother better as an adult but as she grew older she found that to not be the case.

"You hungry?" Edith asked, her back towards Jean.

"No," Jean replied as she approached the stove. "I was just going to get some tea."

"I'll make it for you." Edith said quickly. "Just sit down."

"Fine." Jean said as she walked away from the stove. If Louise had been there, she definitely would've talked back to Edith for being so commanding. Despite the fact that Jean sometimes didn't like the way her mother was so dominating, she could never find it in herself to fight Edith on it.

Now that Jean was in her presence, Edith was cleaning more vigorously, as though she was mad about something. As Jean opened her mouth to speak, Edith huffed: "you can be downright ridiculous, Eugenia."

"How is that?" Jean asked in a firm voice, causing Edith to face her.

"Don't act like you don't know."

"I really am confused, so please do tell me why I am so ridiculous."

"Their mother just _died_ ," Edith responded, waving her washcloth in the air. "Their mother died and you're fillin' their head with some nonsense that you're goin' to take them away with you."

Jean was now angry. She was close to thirty years old, she didn't need her mother carrying on as if she was some sort of deviant child. At least when Atticus approached the subject he had been respectful about it. "It's not nonsense." She replied curtly. "I have full intentions on taking them back to Maycomb with me."

"Eugenia, that is just … _ridiculous_." Edith snapped. "They need stability."

"I didn't realize I wasn't stable," Jean said sarcastically. She couldn't help but to think that Louise would've been impressed with that comeback. "Mama, I might as well be the posterchild for stability! Maycomb will do them good—"

"I'm not going to hear any more of this."

"You're so _stubborn_ ," Jean said, scowling. "You're acting like it's guaranteed that they'll be here."

"What are you talking about?"

"They have a father,"

"He might as well not exist, the day he comes for those girls is the day that hell freezes over."

"Well that day might be comin'. Who knows what he'll do now that Charlotte's gone." She was too caught up in trying to be spiteful that she nearly lost sight of what really mattered—her sister was gone. She exhaled sharply and glanced at her mother, who looked hurt.

Edith tossed the washcloth to the side and examined her daughter. Jean swore she saw tears in her mother's eyes, which was enough to make her want to be swallowed up in the earth. Edith opened her mouth as if she was to say something but quickly closed it before crossing the room to leave.

"Mama," Jean croaked, immediately regretting everything she had just said. Again, tears formed in her eyes as her mother stopped in her tracks, but refused to look at her. "I'm sorry." She said slowly, feeling more ashamed by the second.

"Good night, Eugenia." Edith said before leaving.

Jean sighed and looking around the kitchen, feeling incredibly empty. Her thoughts gravitated towards her mother, and she was instantly filled with guilt. Throughout the entire day, she had never thought to ask Edith if she was alright. She thought of the tears in her mother's eyes. The last time she saw Edith cry was when her father died when she was ten, almost _twenty_ years ago. Then, she felt worse. A pit of sadness grew within her and she felt as if she was going to cry, yet she couldn't. Her eyes, that had just been wet with tears, were now dry. Despite how troubled she felt, she just couldn't cry.

It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since she found out Charlotte died, and yet it felt as though an eternity passed. Looking back, it felt to Jean as though it had been _years_ since she told her nieces their mother died—not hours. Her conversations with Atticus and her mother happened lifetimes ago, and yet they didn't. The experience left her feeling older, though she certainly didn't feel wiser.

Maybe her mother was right, maybe she was absolutely ridiculous. She was so caught up in thinking about how Clara and Libby didn't have a real mother and was so ready to fulfill that role that she didn't realize that maybe it wasn't for the best. Atticus _tried_ to tell her, but like the fool she was, she wouldn't listen…

"You look like shit," a familiar voice said from the doorway, making Jean jump. Looking up, she saw Louise leaning against the doorway, her suitcase still in her hand.

It couldn't have been more than a month since she last saw her sister. Louise earnestly tried to visit Maycomb as much as she could, especially after Jem was born, so the two of them were frequently together even though they were living separate lives. Yet, Louise looked different. Her characteristically long, dark brown hair (she was the only Graham daughter to inherit Edith's dark hair) was now cut above her shoulders and she abandoned her dress for a pair of slacks. But what was most noticeable was her eyes. She had been wearing dark makeup, but it was smeared messily around her eyes—as though she had been crying. Louise _never_ cried.

Louise raised her eyebrows and looked around the room mockingly. "You look like you've seen a ghost," she teased before she frowned. "Shit."

"You're a right old mess."

"I don't think this'll feel real for a couple more hours."

"It still don't feel real to me and I've been here all day."

"It's after midnight," Louise said as she crossed the room, examining the now-cold cup of tea that was sitting on the counter. She lifted it and took a sip, cringing from how cold it was. "I hope you weren't waitin' up for me."

"I was just sittin'."

Louise dumped the tea in the sink before throwing herself in the chair next to Jean. "You alright?"

"Charlotte's dead."

"I know that."

"I'm also an awful person."

"Why's that?"

Jean sighed before resting her face in her hands. "I was so caught up in what I thought was right that I told Clara and Libby they could live with me without thinking of what was really best for them and I was short with Atticus about it and made mama upset."

"You certainly are Edie's daughter," Louise said, trying to smirk. "Always doin' what _you_ think is best for everyone."

"It's not funny. She was cryin'."

"She'll be fine," Louise said, shaking her head. "You now got some senses in you and mama'll forget about it soon, especially if Simon comes."

"I don't even want to think about that." Jean shuddered. "I'd rather him do what he's best at and just _not_ come."

"If he comes I'll kill him." Louise said simply, making Jean a little concerned because she sounded like she meant it. "I blame him for this."

"If we want to be really technical, it's daddy's heart that killed her."

"If Simon wasn't such an _ass_ maybe she would've lasted longer." Louise said tersely. "Maybe if he did what a husband _should_ do—"

"I don't want to talk about this."

"I know what we can do," Louise said with a smirk on her face as she opened her suitcase. "My friend Seymour—"

"Who's Seymour?"

"I went to Boston with him,"

"Is he the writer?"

"No, that's Phillip."

"Oh, then he's the painter?"

"No, that's Johnathan. Seymour's a math teacher."

"You really need to draw me a diagram," Jean said, crossing her arms as Louise continued to look through her bag. "Or maybe even stop all of these shenanigans and settle down."

Louise looked at her and rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to settle until I'm at least thirty," she said, making Jean roll her eyes. "I might as well have some fun while I can."

"Mama thinks you're disgraceful."

"Disgraceful, my ass." Louise said, making Jean smile. Finally, Louise pulled a glass bottle of wine out of her suitcase. "Seymour said this might make us feel better, so I say we drink it."

"I'll grab some glasses," Jean said, rising from her seat.

"What do you think we are, civilized? Let's just drink from the bottle." Louise said, standing up. "Let's sit on the back porch and get some air."

Before going outside, Louise uncorked the bottle. The two of them sprawled out on the porch swing that was in the backyard, each taking turns taking sips of the wine. Sometimes Jean would have a drink if she accompanied Atticus to some function at the legislature, but otherwise she hardly drank at all. Atticus didn't like alcohol, he thought it was too sweet and he didn't like the way it made him feel. She wondered what he would think if he saw her drinking out of the bottle like some sort of frivolous thing. At some point, Louise pulled a pack of cigarettes and a small book of matches out of her trouser pockets.

"Want one?" She asked, smirking.

"I've never smoked." Jean said, shaking her head as Louise light the cigarette.

"Try it," Louise pressed, smiling as she pushed the light cigarette towards Jean. Reluctantly, she held it between her thumb and pointer finger.

"What do I do?" She asked as Louise watched eagerly.

"Just put it to your lips and puff it." Louise said. Hesitantly, Jean looked at her sister before bringing the damn thing to her lips and inhaling. She must've inhaled too deeply though, because the next thing she knew she was flinging the cigarette towards Louise as she choked on the smoke. "It's not for everyone," Louise teased, looking graceful as she took a puff of the cigarette.

"You the devil," Jean said in a raspy voice before chugging some of the wine (though it made her feel worse).

"You'll be fine," Louise said, shaking her head. After a few moments, Jean could finally breathe without feeling as though she was going to suffocate.

For a while, the sisters sat there in silence, lazily rocking the swing back and forth. After a few moments of observing her younger sister, Jean asked: "did you cry?"

"When?"

"When you found out Charlotte died?"

Louise looked baffled. "Why?"

"I just want to know."

"My sister's dead," she said, the playfulness leaving her voice. "Of course I did."

"Do you remember the first time we got drunk?"

"When I was fourteen and you were sixteen, when Charlotte took us to that party Simon was having as long as we didn't tell mama?" Louise asked, the smile returning to her face.

"And Charlotte was so scared we would tell mama that she just kept getting us drinks as a bribe,"

"Then Edie found out anyway when you threw up all over the hallway floor the next morning,"

"And she thought it was blood because of those red candies we ate early that day, so she was convinced I was dyin' and Charlotte _had_ to tell her about where we went." The two of them were in near hysterics with laughter at that point.

"We weren't allowed out for the rest of the summer, yet you still managed to sneak out with Emmett every other night." Louise said, grinning.

"Charlotte was fun once, wasn't she?" Jean asked, the smile still on her face as she finished the last of the wine.

"I think so," Louise said fondly before sighing. "Damn, it must be near four in the morning. I've been awake since Edie called me _yesterday_ at four."

Jean groaned as she rubbed her eyes. "I haven't slept in _so long_ ," she said. "Jeremy's had the flu and all he wants is to be held."

"Then why the hell are we awake?"

"We should go to bed," Jean said, chuckling.

"Good thing I'm just sleepin' with Hattie down here," Louise winked. "You have fun climbin' up all those stairs after drinkin' all that wine."

"You seem to forget how good I was at sneaking back in after goin' out with Emmett," Jean smirked as she stood up, swaying on her feet. Luckily, she had been able to steady herself.

"You're not so young and agile anymore," Louise grinned as the two of them made their way inside.

"I'm just tired," Jean whispered as they made their way to the parlor, where Hattie was fast asleep. Quickly, Louise settled herself on the smaller sofa as Jean made her way to the stairs.

"Good luck," Louise whispered with a wink.

"Shut up," Jean hissed back.

It took her a little bit longer than usual to get up the stairs, but she was still proud of herself for making her way to the second floor quietly. It seemed as though all of the lights were off in the bedrooms, so she assumed everyone up there was asleep. Slowly, she opened the door to her room and crept in.

Jeremy was fast asleep in his makeshift crib. She hovered over him for a few minutes and watched his small chest rise and fall with his breathing, and she felt relieved. He must've been feeling better, since he was having a better time sleeping through the night. She blew the baby a kiss before sitting down on her twin bed.

Jean watched Atticus for a few moments as he slept in Charlotte's bed. She smiled to herself as she looked at him, realizing that he left his glasses on. Slowly, she crossed the room and gently stood over him, easing his glasses off of his face. As she placed them on the end table, he shivered.

"I must've dozed off," he whispered. "I was waitin' for you."

She examined the bed and determined there was just enough room for her to lay beside him. Gently, she pulled the duvet down and settled herself next to him, and as she did so he wrapped his arm around her, securing her next to him. She rolled to her side, so that her face was against his chest. "You didn't have to wait," she whispered, though she wasn't sure he heard her.

"I like waitin' for you." He told her in a hushed voice. "Louise must be home."

"What makes you think that?" She responded, smiling into his chest.

"You're drunk and you smell like cigarettes,"

"I'm _not_ drunk."

"I watched you walk over here, you couldn't move in a straight line." He whispered, trying to hold back a laugh.

"You shush."

"Don't worry, sweet, I always think you're charming."

"You have to, I'm your wife."

For a few moments, she lay there, pressed against her husband with her eyes closed. She could feel his heart beating in her ear, and she could hear his stomach gurgling. That worried her slightly, since he had two stomach ulcers that bothered him on occasion.

"Sweet?" She whispered.

"I'll take my soda in the morning," he mumbled. "I don't wanna move."

"Not that,"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Don't play stupid, just tell me it's alright."

She felt him chuckle. "It's alright, sweet," he said soothingly. "I guess." He whispered playfully.

"You're awful."

"You love me anyway."

" _I guess._ "

"Devil-woman."

"I love you," she whispered, smiling.

"You know I love you."


	3. Chapter 3

Jeremy woke up giggling the next morning.

The sound of her son laughing was enough to make Jean forget about everything that had been plaguing her mind. She felt like it had been forever since she had heard him laugh, since his spell of the flu had left him both exhausted and irritable. Awkwardly, she got out of bed (in order for both of them to be comfortable in the small bed, Jean basically had to sleep on top of Atticus) and approached Jem's playpen. His cheeks were flushed with sleep and though his eyes were still glazed from being sick, he beamed up at his mother with a cheerful expression on his face.

"Are you feeling better?" She asked in a hushed tone as Jem giggled again and held his arms out for his mother. Happily, she scooped him in her arms and he immediately began grabbing at her hair. "You're definitely back to your senses," she laughed, making him grin even wider.

"Looks like someone's finally feelin' well," Atticus said from behind her. Smiling, she crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, putting Jeremy in the space she once occupied.

"At!" He called out as he climbed on his father. "At!"

"Daddy," Jean corrected, tickling Jeremy's stomach, making him fall on Atticus' chest. "Say _daddy_."

"At!" Jeremy exclaimed back, and Jean could've sworn he was smirking at her.

Atticus laughed. "I don't know why you try," he told her, moving Jeremy so he could sit up. "I think he's going to call me At for as long as he lives."

Jean scowled playfully, taking Jeremy into her lap. Before she could respond, she heard her mother exclaim from the hallway: "Lord Almighty, Louise, couldn't you try to make yourself presentable?"

"Lou!" Jeremy called, clapping his hands together. At eleven months old he knew five words: Lou, ma, At, cat and no. No matter how hard Jean tried, it seemed as though he refused to say _daddy_ or _yes_.

"I hear you!" Louise called playfully from the hallway. "And Edie you should calm yourself before you give yourself a stomach ulcer. That's the _last_ thing anyone would want to deal with."

"Insufferable child," Edith remarked as she opened the door to the bedroom. Though she had been glaring when she opened the door, a smile grew on her face when she saw her grandson. "Come here, sweet." She said as she crossed the room and took her grandson in her arms. "Let's get you something to eat," she said, almost cheerfully as Jeremy grabbed Edith's face with his two chubby hands.

From behind Edith, Jean noticed Louise. She was still wearing the clothes she had arrived home in, and her hair and makeup were so disheveled she looked like a madwoman. Jean couldn't help but to laugh at her.

"You'd look like this too if you had to travel for twenty hours," Louise scowled. At the sound of his aunt's voice, Jeremy began clapping his hands together and reaching for her.

"Lou," he called out. "Lou!"

"I'm surprised he isn't scared of you," Edith said coolly, handing the squirming baby to Louise. "You look downright awful. I don't understand _why_ you cut all your hair off."

"I think she looks rather becoming," Atticus said, smirking.

"At least somebody in this family is polite," Louise responded as she bounced Jeremy on her hip, making the little boy cackle.

"I'm glad to see that your appearance finally reflects what's goin' on inside your head." He teased, making Jean laugh and Louise scowl. Edith merely shook her head.

"You used to be a nice man before you married her," Louise said nonchalantly, smirking as she turned to leave the room. "Now you're the devil just like she is."

-o-o-o-

The jovial mood that had existed that morning quickly disintegrated once everybody realized what still needed to be done. Charlotte's funeral was in just two days and they still needed to see if she left a will, go through her belongings and clean her house and meet with a variety of people to prepare the house for selling and to prepare for the actual service. Luckily for the family, Edith's three sisters all lived within the same neighborhood and all were readily available to help, and Jean's cousin Maudie was coming from Maycomb to help. Now more than ever, Edith was especially thankful that her son-in-law was a lawyer, for he was going to be very useful for many different reasons.

Since the girls were still suffering from the flu, they were unable to go to school (and Edith probably would've kept them home even if they weren't sick). As a result of this, Edith tasked Harriet with staying at home to watch over the girls and Jeremy while everyone else was stationed at Charlotte's.

For the majority of the day, Edith was gone. Since they still weren't able to find a will, Edith met with Charlotte's bank to discuss saving the money for the girls, went to the church to help prepare for the funeral, and was driving herself nearly insane with exhaustion trying to keep herself busy. For the sake of her sister's welfare, Edith's oldest sister Beatrice had accompanied her (giving Jean a sense of relief that her mother wouldn't be doing all of this alone). All the while, the rest of the family was given strict instructions on what to do with Charlotte's belongings.

"Start with Clara and Libby's room," Edith had said. "Pack everything in there up and send it over to Hattie, so she can organize it at my house. Then go through everything else and if it's useless, just throw it away."

"What about Simon's room?" Edith's younger sister, Addie had asked nervously, making Edith stop dead in her tracks.

When he was alive, it was no surprise that Simon had been Edith's favorite grandchild. He was her first grandbaby, and had been such a charming little boy. And he loved her immensely, too. He was always chanting "Edie, Edie, Edie…" even when she wasn't around, and could occupy himself by playing at her house for _hours_. Though Edith concealed her feelings quite well, it was still obvious his death had hit her especially hard. Since his death, Simon's room had not been touched and remained the same way for nearly seven years—what were they going to do with his belongings?

"Pack it and send it to Hattie. Just tell her to put it in the attic." Edith had said coldly after pausing for a few moments.

"What about Big Simon's stuff?" Louise asked, and Edith immediately seemed annoyed. "He has his stupid office here and a ton of—"

"Sell it, throw it all out, I don't care what y'all do with it." She said coldly before leaving.

Once Edith and Beatrice were gone, Jean's Aunt Sarah shook her head and clicked her tongue. "Dear, we should probably put his stuff in boxes and put it aside," she said, almost sympathetically. "In case he comes, but I don't even think that Edie called him—"

"Oh she did this morning," Louise said, standing up from the sofa she was sitting on. "Harriet and I heard the whole thing. He's not even here and you coulda cut the tension with a knife."

"Well, is he comin'?" Addie asked, looking surprised.

Louise shrugged. "No clue," she responded as she crossed her arms. "She said nothin' to me about it, she just acted like the conversation didn't happen."

"I don't know what would be worse—whether he comes or whether he doesn't." Addie said as Sarah nodded in agreement.

"He would have a lot of nerve showing up after being gone for nearly seven years," Jean said.

"If he comes I swear to God Almighty I don't know what I'd do," Louise added. "Maybe he'll say he's comin' and just not show up, like he always does."

"God help this man if he crosses your paths," Atticus said, pointing at both Jean and Louise. "I can pack up his office, that way I can see if Charlotte has a will in there or somethin'."

"Finally, someone's bein' useful." Addie teased. "Sarah and I can get this floor if you two want to do the girls, Charlotte's and Simon's rooms."

Louise glanced at Jean. "I can do Simon's room if you want to get some of the girl's stuff ready to send to Edie's." She said quickly. "We can do Charlotte's room and the attic together."

"Alright," Jean responded as she and Louise bounded towards the stairs. She didn't say anything, but she knew Louise was intentionally keeping her away from Simon's room.

She could partially understand Louise's motives for keeping her out of Simon's room. For a while following his death, Jean blamed herself for it since she had been the one watching him when he died. She could barely talk about him or the incident without being plagued by guilt, and it took her a while to really come to accept the situation afterwards. But that was seven years ago. Jean liked to think that she was fine now, that she wouldn't regress back to a state of anxiety that had become familiar to her immediately after his death. She couldn't help but to be disappointed that Louise probably still saw her as vulnerable when it came to Simon.

But, she chose not to fight Louise on it. Ultimately, it would be a petty argument that would result in the two of them huffing and hardly getting anything done, and there was a lot that Edith expected to be done when she returned from her errands. So, Jean obligingly collected some boxes and went to Clara and Libby's room and started organizing things to bring to her mother's house.

It hadn't taken her long to pack everything up. Not knowing what was important to her nieces and what wasn't, Jean decided to just organize everything in the room into boxes so that the girls had _all_ of their possessions at Edith's with them. Jean was just about Clara's age when her father died and they had to move to a new house, and she remembered being devastated when Edith had discarded some of her favorite things. Considering how tumultuous of a time this was for them, Jean didn't want to risk further disappointment.

Since she had no distractions when completing her task, it only took her a little over an hour to neatly pack everything up. Soon enough, the room was completely bare except for the two twin beds, the end stand, dresser and the four boxes. Looking around the almost-barren room, Jean silently decided that she would let Atticus carry the boxes to Edith's house—he was much stronger than she was, anyway.

When she had completed her task, she went to go find Louise. She figured since she had a similar job, Louise was probably done with Simon's room and had moved on to Charlotte's. However, when Jean opened Charlotte's bedroom door there was nobody in there. Jean couldn't help but to be surprise—Louise was quick and always full of energy, she should've been well done Simon's room by now and making her way to Charlotte's room. Shrugging, she decided to find her sister.

Simon's door was shut when Jean approached it, and she inhaled slowly as she grasped the door handle and opened it. Louise had been done packing up his room, but instead of moving on to the next room she was sitting amongst the boxes, looking at something.

She was crying.

Jean had been taken aback at first. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen her sister cry. Although Louise tried to adamantly declare that she was nothing like their mother, her ability to conceal her emotions was identical to Edith's. She usually saved her crying for when she was alone, and hid all evidence that anything was wrong. Therefore this was a highly rare scene for Jean to come across.

"Lou?" She asked apprehensively, making her sister jump.

Quickly, Louise threw down whatever she had been holding and wiped vigorously at her eyes. Standing up, she tried to pretend as though Jean hadn't seen anything. "It's dusty in here," she chuckled, clearing her throat. "I don't think anyone's been in—"

"Don't lie to me," Jean said as she crossed her arms. Louise immediately frowned.

"It's strange," Louise said, looking at the photograph she had tossed on the ground. Slowly, she bent and picked it up. "I found the last snapshot of Simon alive in here."

"It's his room," Jean said, looking around at her barren surroundings.

"Why would he have a picture of himself?"

Jean shrugged. "Maybe someone gave it to him."

"I think Charlotte brought it in here," Louise said, looking sad. "When I came in, the duvet was ruffled as though someone sat on it, there was an indent in the bed. This was on the pillow."

Jean took the snapshot out of Louise's hand and examined it. Simon's cheery face smiled up at her as he ran towards the person holding the camera—it had probably been Edith. "She probably came in here and would think about him."

Louise inhaled sharply. "I was awful." She said grimly.

"What, at packing up?"

"Are you bein' daft on purpose?" She asked, annoyed. Her eyes were welling up again. "I was a right ol' bitch to Charlotte and now she's dead."

Jean tried to hug Louise but she moved to the side. "Don't comfort me, I'm gonna rot in hell." She said, putting her hands to her face. "This whole time I was just thinkin' about how awful I was and how she probably dreaded seein' me after Simon died."

"She loved you," Jean said truthfully. "You weren't as bad as you think."

"I'm a mean person," she sniffed. "Even to my own sister."

"You were realistic, she completely shut herself—"

"No." Louise said stubbornly. "I just never understood her and instead of takin' time to be nice to her I was just awful. I came in here and I saw that damn indent and this picture and I just thought about how much time she spent in here cryin' over Simon and I felt evil."

"I don't think you would've ever understood her." Jean replied honestly.

Louise looked downright startled. "Am I _that much_ of a close-minded person?"

"It's not that," Jean said quickly, trying to ease that terrified look on Louise's face. "You don't have children, you don't know what it's like to know that you could lose 'em—you never lost one."

Louise sniffed and rubbed at her eyes again. "Well I guess I'll never understand because if that's what happens when you have kids, there's no way in hell I'm having them."

After that, Jean and Louise pretended that the ordeal never happened. The only reminder Jean had of it was that snapshot of Simon she had taken from his room.

-o-o-o-

Atticus hadn't been able to find a will while he had been cleaning out Big Simon's office, but even if he did it probably wouldn't have been very useful. Edith was mortified to find out that the bank account in which Charlotte used to pay her bills and for other expenses was in fact Simon's, and everything in Charlotte's house had been in his name. Although the man hadn't seen his wife and daughters since the year his son died, he did in fact pay for everything. This gave him a great position of power over Edith—he could leave the girls with her with absolutely nothing, or he could take them away from her. No matter which way anyone looked at it, Edith seemed to be in a great disadvantage. Yes, she could provide for the girls herself, but what would happen when they wanted to go to college? Certainly, Edith couldn't provide for them for a long time.

When she and Beatrice arrived home that evening, Edith had dissolved into a fit of tears at her dining room table. The dining room table that had been frequently used for important family meetings and as the place where Edith would read the paper, organize her day schedule and do just about everything. Now, it seemed as though her life was falling apart there. At her side sat her three remaining daughters, who all watched their mother with a mortified expression on their face. Beatrice had been quick to her feet, preparing tea and attempting to soothe her sister. But nothing could work, it seemed as though Edith was a completely different person. Her daughters didn't know whether to feel bad for her, or to be terrified that she was going to break down just as Charlotte had.

"My daughter's gone," she finally said after a few moments of being incoherent. Jean inhaled sharply—her mother was coming to understand the pain her daughter suffered for seven years. At any age, a mother should never lose her child.

Jean had expected Harriet to be the one to burst into tears at the sight of her mother crying. She was already fragile enough as it was, but oddly it was Louise who silently cried as Edith mourned. Shortly after, Jean and Harriet burst into tears as well.

Beatrice buzzed around them, giving hearty hugs and filling saucers of tea that nobody would drink. "Dears, Charlotte wouldn't want this," she continually said. "She wouldn't want y'all to be miserable."

"Beatrice, _shut up_." Edith said in a thick voice. The scolding had caused Beatrice to stop in her tracks, but it didn't discourage her from being optimistic.

"Eugenia," Edith had said after a few minutes of silence. Jean had sat up, ready to do whatever her mother asked of her.

"Yes, mama?"

"I'm sorry," she said, and it seemed as though a knot formed in her throat as she attempted to say more, but found herself unable to. Jean sniffed and rubbed her eyes.

"Don't," she said her voice wavering as she shook her head. "Don't be."

Edith covered her eyes with her hands. She had stopped crying, but it seemed as though she could start again at any moment. "You're not an insufferable person, Louise." She said softly, making Louise chuckle through her tears.

"I am, but I know you find it charmin'."

-o-o-o-

Even in adulthood, Jean was probably the worst person to ever attend a funeral. She thought that with age would come the maturity to handle funerals in an appropriate manner, but she was sadly mistaken. It didn't help that this was the first time in seven years that she had to watch a close family member being buried, and she had to do _something_ to keep her from bursting into tears like a grief-stricken madwoman.

Throughout the funeral she held Jeremy, who at nearly a year old was able to handle himself better than his mother. He peacefully sat in her lap, bobbing his head to the hymns that played. Only once during the sermon did he try to clap his hands and cheer for the minister, but other than that he behaved perfectly. Jean, on the other hand, fidgeted like a small child who couldn't hold their bladder.

Clara and Libby sat in the pew ahead of Jean. Both of them were on either side of Edith, clinging onto her sides and crying over the death of their mother. Jean tried not to look at them, and found herself squirming in her spot to try to find a spot to concentrate on. Atticus had to have noticed, for the service wasn't halfway over when he needed to wrap his arms around her and hold her down.

Charlotte was buried next to Simon, a few plots away from their father. Once Rowan Graham had died, Edith decided to purchase the largest plot of land she could so that her entire family could be buried together. Sometimes, it gave Jean a sick satisfaction knowing that it was probably killing Alexandra that she and Atticus would be buried in Montgomery rather than at the Landing. She tried not to think about that often though, because Jean realized that the subject was morbid and no normal person her age thought about things like that.

Big Simon didn't arrive until the service was over. Rather than showing up at the church, he arrived at Edith's house when everyone had congregated there in order to continue the memorial.

Atticus had been the one to see him first. Though he had never met his elusive brother-in-law, he began to grow suspicious when his car (containing him and a woman) sat outside of Edith's house for twenty minutes. When he noticed the man getting out of the car to approach the porch, he immediately went to his wife. She and Louise had been talking to one of the girls Charlotte went to school with when he pulled the two of them aside.

"I think Simon's here," he whispered to them. Jean immediately looked towards the front window as Louise began to glare.

"That's him alright," Jean whispered back. Louise was growing more furious.

"What're ya'll doin'?" Hattie asked as she approached the three of them. Louise elbowed her and shushed her.

"Simon's here," Jean informed her.

"I'm getting' mama," Hattie said as she hurried to find Edith.

"I'm going to kill him," Louise said nonchalantly as she walked towards the front door. Jean and Atticus both exchanged alarmed glances with one another before following her.

Despite being a rather large man, Simon looked nervous. Terrified, actually. It didn't make matters any better when Louise came storming onto the porch and barred him from going inside. Despite her strong dislike for the man, Jean gave him an uneasy smile, trying to make him look a little less petrified.

"You have nerve," Louise said sharply, crossing her arms. "You don't show up for seven years—"

"Where's Edith?" He asked, his voice sounding weak.

" _Mrs. Graham's_ inside," Louise responded. "Don't worry, once she finds out _you're_ here, she'll be out here faster than you can spell Mississippi."

"Just let me in,"

"You're not welcome here,"

"Eugenia—"Despite the fact that she had a feeling that some bigger conflict was going to unfold, Jean found herself unable to say anything. Instead she merely watched the spectacle, trying to keep her mouth from gaping open with amazement. Quietly, Atticus observed Simon, his hands in his pockets.

"Don't call her that."

"Louise, you're just as spiteful as ever."

"You're just as cowardly as ever—is that your mistress in your car over there? You're real nice for bringing her to your _wife's_ funeral—"

"That's none of your business."

"My sister's dead, of course it's my business. Obviously you've moved on quick, it seems like you had a thing for blondes." Louise chided. Simon was growing red and looked absolutely furious. His large hands were clenched into fists and were shaking, as though he wanted to grab Louise and shake the living daylights out of her.

"If you don't shut up—"

"What're you going to do, Simon? Run away like you usually do?"

"It's one of the only things he's good at," Jean chimed in. Atticus' attention immediately was taken away from Simon, and he gave his wife a look that obviously said: _what in the hell are you doing?!_

"Listen, you two," Simon said as he moved closer to Louise. While his red face was inches away from hers, he began pointing one of his fingers in Jean's face.

"Sir—"Atticus began as he gently moved Jean back a few steps. Before he could say anything, the front door swung open.

"Get the _hell_ away from my daughters," Edie nearly screamed. "Or you'll wish you _never_ came here."

Jean felt her face grow red as she noticed Louise smirking out of the corner of her eye. Sometimes, Edie's actions alone showed just how highly she regarded her children.


	4. Chapter 4

Edith didn't let Simon inside.

Rather, she forced him to go in the backyard. Without being told, Jean and Louise followed the pair. Atticus, who probably thought that all three women were insane, trailed behind them. The three women sat on the porch swing, each of them glaring at Simon. At the sight of Edith, it seemed as though Simon had grown quite afraid again.

Nobody said anything for a while. Instead, Edith gave Simon a cold look, as if she was telling him to speak up soon or he might as well leave. Jean's mother _never_ wasted time with "useless" people.

"I can't believe she's gone," Simon said as he wiped his face with his hand. When Jean heard a scoff she could've sworn it had come from Louise, but it had actually come from her mother.

"You know, we said the same exact thing about you once you left." Edith said coolly, smirking at her son-in-law. "But then, once we _really_ thought about it, we didn't expect anything less."

Simon quickly moved his hand away from his face. "You don't understand—"

"You might as well have put her in the grave yourself,"

"Her drinkin' did that,"

"Don't talk about my sister that way." Jean found herself saying, crossing her arms.

"If you're going to be delusional—"

"Don't talk to her," Louise said harshly.

Jean looked over at Atticus, who was standing off to the side. His hands remained in his pockets, and he watched them intently. She couldn't help but to wonder what he would do in case Simon stepped out of line in anyway. The thought of her husband getting into an argument with her brother-in-law actually made her laugh.

"Who's that?" Simon asked, nodding his head towards Atticus. He seemed annoyed at the fact that a stranger was watching their interaction. She shouldn't have looked at him, maybe he would've gone by unnoticed if she hadn't.

"My husband." She responded coolly.

"Don't change the subject," Edith added harshly, for which Jean was infinitely grateful of. Atticus didn't need to get involved in this. "What do you want?"

Suddenly, it was as if Simon had gotten the strength to stand up to Edith—like he had a secret weapon of some sort that would knock her down. "My daughters," he said. Jean could almost swear her heart stopped. From the corner of her eye she could see Louise sit up straight, and for some reason Edith looked unfazed.

"No." Edith said firmly.

"They're _my_ —"

"You have no right to call yourself their father," Edith's voice was shaking with anger. "You leave for seven years and _dare_ to come back with some _woman_ in your car—"

"I lost my son," Simon said, his face was growing red again. "What Charlotte did—"

"We all lost him, Simon. You're stupid to think you're the only one." Edith said. "What you've done is inexcusable. If you think you can just come back and take them, you've got another thing comin'."

"Where else would they go?"

"Here. Where they belong."

"They'll end up just like Charlotte with you raising them,"

"Don't," Jean and Louise started in unison. They paused, looked at one another, and glared back at Simon.

"Don't talk to her that way," Jean said. She was nearly yelling, but she didn't care.

"You should be _grateful_ ," Louise said bitterly. "You should be _grateful_ that she's taking care of them. Who knows what would happen—"

"Nanny?" A small voice said from the back door. All of them looked over quickly to see Clara and Libby standing in the doorway. Their eyes were red from their crying, and they looked exhausted. Immediately, Clara caught a glimpse of her father. Libby, who hardly knew the man, looked confused.

"Hey girls," Simon said, clearing his throat. "Why don't you come to daddy?"

Almost instantly, Libby looked incredibly nervous. Wildly, she looked from her father to her sister, then to her aunts and grandmother. She must have seen Atticus standing off to the side, because the moment she set her eyes on him she went running towards him at full force. She wrapped her arms around one of his legs and buried her face in his thigh. Simon watched as Atticus collected Libby in his arms and lifted her up. Jean could swear she detected a hint of jealousy in Simon's eyes as Libby wrapped her arms tightly around her uncle's neck. Jean was _glad_ he was jealous.

Clara, on the other hand, looked petrified. She hadn't seen her father since she was nearly five years old—she probably thought he was never going to come back. Nervously, her eyes never left Simon as she walked past him and stood next to Jean. Jean didn't care that her niece was almost eleven, she pulled the girl into her lap. Simon looked absolutely dejected.

"Aren't you happy to see me?" He asked Clara, and Jean wanted nothing more than to punch him straight in his face. Was he trying to guilt trip her?

Clara remained silent. "You don't need to answer," Jean whispered in her ear.

"What did you say to her?" Simon asked.

"Nothing."

"Yes you—"

"I'm _not_." Clara said in a shaky voice. Simon's eyes widened.

"What?"

"I'm not happy to see you," she responded, her voice firmer. "You're not mama."

"Mama didn't even—"

"You _asshole_!" Louise nearly shrieked, standing up. Jean felt Clara jump in her arms. "You're going to—"

"What's going on out here?" Maudie asked from the doorway. She leaned against the doorframe, holding Jeremy on her hip. Hattie, who had been standing behind her, quickly made her way to the porch swing where her mom and sisters were sitting. Jeremy, obviously not knowing what was going on, began to babble excitedly at the sight at his family. Jean couldn't help but to smile at him, waving her fingers in his direction, making him laugh even more. Maudie quickly smiled down at the baby before directing her attention back to Simon. Instead of saying anything, she shook her head at him. "Aunt Edith if you need any of us, we're right in here." She said before taking Jeremy back inside.

He was too busy fuming at Louise to even notice Maudie. "How dare you—"

" _Stop_!" Libby cried, her face still buried in Atticus' shoulder. At hearing her sister upset, Clara jumped off from Jean's lap and rushed towards her uncle, who was starting to walk towards the door.

"I'm taking her inside," he said as he walked passed them. He paused for a moment to put his hand on Jean's shoulder. "I don't think her or Clara need to hear any of this."

He moved his hand from Jean's shoulder, and extended it for Clara to take. Simon opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but seemed to quickly change his mind. Looking even more sullen, Clara took her uncle's hand, but as they made their way to the door, she stopped and turned around. As she went back into the yard, Atticus waited in the doorway for her.

"Nanny?" She asked as the tears fell from her eyes. It looked as if what she was saying was causing her pain. Edith, whose expression had begun to soften, examined her oldest granddaughter.

"Yes, baby?"

"We don't have to go with him, do we?" She asked, trying to hold back a sob. Simon looked absolutely defeated. "We want to stay with you."

"Sweet, you're not goin' anywhere." Edith responded, _her_ eyes filling with tears.

-o-o-o-

Despite the fact that it was rather obvious that neither of his daughters wanted to be near him (which Jean didn't blame them for at all), Simon _still_ tried to take them from Edith. Out of desperation, Jean awkwardly mentioned how Atticus was a lawyer and if he tried anything funny, Edith would have the best defense in the state of Alabama (she was glad Atticus hadn't been in the room to hear that, because he probably would've looked at her like she was insane again). However, it wasn't until Louise went out to his car and started to ask the woman sitting in it about her relationship with Simon that he decided to leave, obviously disgraced from the interaction. He told Edith he would be in contact with her about the girls, though they all doubted that he actually would.

The moment he and all of the other guests finally left Edith's house and everything had been tidied up, Jean's mother slumped on the couch and buried her face in her hands. Jean, who had been in the kitchen washing dishes, hadn't actually seen that happen. Instead, Atticus came in and took the sponge and glass from her hands.

"Go sit with your mother," he said softly. "She needs you."

She furrowed her eyebrows, but listened to him. When she entered the living room she found Louise laying on the floor by her mother's feet, and Harriet sitting in an armchair by the sofa. Jean slowly stepped over Louise to sit next to her mother. "He ruined it," Edith said grimly, her hands still covering her face.

Louise frowned and met Jean's eyes. "Edie," Louise said before pausing. "Mama—I'm sorry—"

"You didn't do anything," Edith said, making Louise sit up. If it had been any other day, Edith would've berated Louise for her behavior. "He came in here like he was entitled to and he made a mockery—"

"You did a pretty good job of showing him his place," Jean offered as her mother finally removed her hands from her face. "He was awfully scared to see you."

"If Charlotte was here I think she would've made fun of him for being such a baby," Harriet said. "She also would've appreciated you stickin' up for her."

"He was too busy shaking at the thought of you to actually make a mockery of today," Louise said, smirking. "If you had just a couple of more minutes with him, he probably would've wet himself."

"There were too many people here who loved Charlotte to let his pettiness overshadow anything." Jean assured her mother.

Edith sniffed and wiped her eyes, and it was almost as if she hadn't been upset at all. "He had some nerve," she said, the bitterness returning to her voice. "Bringin' that woman with him."

"Her hair color definitely came from a bottle, and _needed_ to be redone desperately." Louise said, smirking. Edith gave her a stern look as Jean and Harriet laughed.

"What did you even say to her?" Jean asked. Proudly, Louise's smile grew and she shrugged her shoulders.

"I asked her if he ever called her Charlotte when they slept together,"

And for the first time in what seemed like forever, Jeans mother actually _laughed_.

-o-o-o-

After spending nearly two weeks in Montgomery, Jean couldn't help but to be glad that they were finally returning home to Maycomb. Edith still found it unnatural that her second daughter no longer saw Montgomery as home (" _this_ is your home, these are your _people_ ," she would often say, making Jean roll her eyes), but Jean hardly cared anymore. All she needed was the quiet of Maycomb and her son and husband to feel perfectly content. She couldn't help but to think that it would be nice for it to be just the three of them again. Frankly speaking, she was also tired of having to share a twin-sized bed with Atticus.

"Maudie let Cal know when we were comin' back once she got home," Atticus informed her a couple of minutes into their car ride. Jeremy had already started to fall asleep in her arms, and she was focused on keeping him awake so he'd sleep through the night. "I asked her to stay longer for the next few weeks since I'll probably have to stay late to catch up on some things."

"You can just bring it home," she said, batting her eyelashes at him, which made him laugh. "I've been so spoiled getting to spend so much time with you."

"You want to make it so I get so behind it takes me nearly a year to catch up, don't you?" He asked, smiling at her. "You look like Mark Walsh's wife the way you bat your eyelashes like that."

Mark Walsh was a man who served on the legislature with Atticus, and if Jean remembered correctly he was from Baldwin County. His wife, Maggie, was a young thing who was always laughing loudly and constantly batted her eyelashes vigorously whenever she listened to anyone speak. Jean always found her to be overbearing.

"At least I have a brain," she retorted (though she felt a little vicious saying it). "I promise I won't be a distraction to you, you won't even know I'm there!"

"That's not my problem," he said as he quickly looked away from the road to kiss her. "I wouldn't want to get anything done if I were at home."

She frowned a bit, inching herself closer to him. Jeremy's head began to loll as he dozed off again, prompting her to sit him up so he wouldn't sleep. "I didn't realize how much work you'd get behind on—"

"Don't worry about that,"

"We probably should've left earlier, huh?"

Atticus shook his head, still concentrating on the road in front of him. "This was more important, sweet."

She smiled at him and laughed softly to herself. "I'm glad you're not like Simon."

He sighed. "I don't like to make assumptions about people I just met—"

"He doesn't deserve your kindness, sweet."

"He wasn't a good man," Atticus said firmly. Even when he was speaking poorly about another person, he always maintained some level of politeness. "In fact, he was trash. Eliza was _terrified_ of him—she and Clara both thought he was going to take them away."

For some reason, that made Jean feel as though she had been hit with a ton of bricks. After losing their mother, the last thing those girls needed was to think their father was going to take them away from the place they were most comfortable at. For a moment, Atticus looked at her and noticed she was upset. "I'm sorry," he said, taking one of his hands off of the steering wheel and placing it firmly on her knee. "I shouldn't have—"

"No," she said quickly, clearing her throat. "It's fine. I just can't believe how awful he's become."

"He wasn't always like this?"

She shook her head. "Heavens, no." She responded. "Why, we all _loved_ him. He lived just a few blocks away when we were growin' up so it was like we knew him _forever_. He was always jokin' with us and treatin' all of us like we were his own sisters. Then when baby Simon died it was like he became a different person. He was so _mean_ to Charlotte, he was always fightin' with her about how she was grievin' and one day he just left. He said it was because he got a job offer, and he originally wanted Charlotte and the girls to come, but she refused to leave. He just never came back."

"Was he mean to you?"

"Hmm?"

"After," Atticus paused for a moment, and his grip on Jean's leg became a little tighter. "After it happened, was he mean to _you_?"

It finally dawned on her that he meant when Simon died. She sighed, remembering how he would look at her coldly and couldn't even speak to her afterwards. "One time," she chuckled, even though she didn't find it funny. "He made a point of polishing all of his guns in front of me. He did it slowly, and pretended to aim some of them—"

"At _you_?"

"He aimed for a picture just past my shoulder," she said. "It was a picture of us girls and my mother. Other than that, he didn't really speak to me."

She looked over at her husband, and noticed that his grip on the steering wheel had been so tight that his knuckles on his left hand were beginning to go white. She thought about that picture of her mother and sisters and her and wondered where it was now—it was probably packed up in one of the boxes that Edith needed to go through. Her mind went to the snapshot of Simon that was folded up in her pocket, and she couldn't help but to feel sad. Quickly, she brought her attention to Jeremy—her very alive baby, and kissed his head. His eyelids fluttered a few times, and she decided to give up on trying to keep him awake.

Atticus' thumb rubbed against her knee. "I shouldn't have brought it up," he said. "I'm sorry."

"It doesn't bother me anymore," she said, though she wasn't entirely telling the truth. "It's fine."

"I didn't mean to upset you," he said quickly. "I'm sorry."

"I promise you it's fine." She responded. " _You_ look upset."

"The fact that he treated you like," he paused and exhaled. "The man's just trash, sweet."

"We all know that, dear." She said, smiling at him in an attempt to get him to smile. Atticus went silent, he was probably deep in thought.

Jean loved many things about her husband, but one of the things she loved the most was how thoughtful he was. To those who weren't closely acquainted with him, Atticus Finch seemed like a stand-offish and awkward man. However, the opposite was actually true about him. He was a warm man, and an extremely caring one. It didn't matter if he knew a person for an hour or for ten years, he treated them with the same amount of respect and compassion. While Atticus liked and cared about people, when it came to social situations Atticus was more of a thinker than a speaker. He could eloquently argue how an author's point in a book he was reading was invalid, easily defend one of his clients, and partake in mundane small-talk. It was just that he didn't particularly enjoy speaking. He was perfectly content in sitting in silence, just thinking about _anything_ (though he always knew what to say and when to say it), and for some reason it was very comforting to Jean. Though, she wouldn't be completely honest if she didn't admit she would _love_ to know what the subject of her husband's many thoughts were.

"What are you thinking about, dear?" She asked. His hand was still resting on her knee, so she put her free one on top of it.

"Nothin'." He responded.

"You're a terrible liar."

"I'm thinkin' about you."

"How you're excited to go back to work so you don't need to see me as often?" She responded sarcastically, batting her eyelashes again.

"You should really consider getting a job as a fortune-teller." He teased.

"Louise was right, I have tainted you." She said, chuckling. "I am quite proud of the accomplishment."

"I was thinking about how I love you," he said, a smile growing on his face. "And how the expression on your face when Simon was wagging his finger at you was priceless. I can't help but to keep imaginin' you tryin' to fight him." He added, laughing to himself.

"You're really sweet until you say things like that,"

"It's not my fault I have a funny wife," he said. "And besides, _you're_ the one who tainted me."

She rolled her eyes and laughed at him. "I suppose I love you, too."

"Well, that's good for your sake because you'd be in quite the predicament if you didn't."

"Oh, shush."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Two things: it may seem like I kind of brushed over the main issue of this chapter, but it'll be brought up again more seriously in the next one, and I feel like I should mention that my one-shots and my multi-chaptered fics are NOT related, so the other development addressed here (which has been addressed in my one-shots) will be handled different in this story.

-o-o-o-

If Jean could choose only one thing that she was particularly fond of, it would be writing. Her father had been a writer for the newspaper before he died, and he attempted to instill his love for the craft in each of his daughters. For the most part, it had worked for his first three children. Charlotte was known to write silly stories for her younger sisters and her own children. Louise wrote poems that she submitted to magazines or shared with her sisters. Jean, on the other hand, usually found joy in writing her thoughts.

She'd write anything and everything down, whether it was something completely serious or a silly little notion she wanted to remember. When Jeremy was first born and Atticus was required to return to work, Jean would spend countless hours just watching her son and writing every thought that came to mind.

She wasn't one to keep many of her thoughts to herself, either. She was known for writing countless numbers of notes to her mother, aunts, and sisters. Once she married Atticus, she began writing him notes too (especially when he was required to go to Montgomery for the legislature for days at a time and she couldn't come with him). Her notes varied in length and subject, and sometimes she found herself writing him silly little things like how she loved him or how he had snored especially loudly the previous night. Sometimes, she'd write him funny little antidotes and hide them in his files or his briefcase and liked to imagine him coming across them while he worked. She liked to think they made him laugh.

She wrote in books, too, which her husband especially despised. One could tell when Jean especially loved a book because the cover was nearly torn off from extreme use, and her handwriting littered any free space there was. She underlined and highlighted passages which she especially loved and wrote her thoughts and interpretations of them in the margins. When Atticus first noticed her doing that within the first few days of their marriage, she thought he was going to be murderous. While she nearly destroyed her books with love, he treated them gently. Dust covers were pristine and crisp, and he insisted on holding his books at a certain angle as to not damage the books spine. If he accidentally bent a page or got something on the book, he was known to spend hours attempting to fix it. "Books, like people, need to be treated with respect." He had told her once as he watched her scribble some of her thoughts into the margin of one of the books he brought back for her from Montgomery.

"This is respect, sweet." She had replied, not looking at him. "Why, Mrs. Dubose is the most respected woman in this neighborhood and she looks like one of my old books. It shows I care," she winked at him as he merely shook his head and returned to the paper (which she had written in to be spiteful).

However, what she said must've left an impression with him because when she was putting away one of the books he left by his rocker, scraps of paper with his thoughts about the book written on them had fallen out. Miraculously, he had even bent a few pages and didn't agonize over trying to fix them. She smirked to herself, feeling as though she accomplished something.

On the day that she had a miscarriage on Stephanie Crawford's sofa, which also happened to be the day that Stephanie told Jean that Jack loved her just as Atticus did, Jean had written her husband a dated note that said _this is my first tea with Stephanie and the others I've had in months… something exciting is bound to happen_. _J._ Little did she know that this would be the most eventful tea she'd ever have with the ladies.

It had been nearly three months since Charlotte died. It was now January, and things had finally settled out to be relatively peaceful for the Finch family. Jeremy had turned one earlier that previous November, and shortly after the New Year Atticus had been called to Montgomery for a special session of the legislature (why on earth the governor decided that they needed to meet had completely slipped Jean's mind, though she knew it had to be somewhat important). With his absence, Jean was able to successfully avoid the ladies in town by saying that there was just _so much_ she needed to keep up with. In all honesty, with Cal's help she was completely capable of getting everything she needed to get done completed in a timely manner, and had plenty of time to sit in the kitchen chatting with Cal until she had to return home. It was just that the ladies bored Jean to tears. All they did was gossip and talk about the younger women in town, making Jean feel awfully awkward. She was thankful that her cousin was her neighbor and attended these stupid things, or else Jean would never see anyone in her neighborhood unless she was forced to. It was also because of Maudie that Jean knew that these women _loved_ to talk about _her_ whenever she wasn't there.

The neighborhood in which they lived in was an old one. Not literally, of course, considering the fact that Atticus as well as Maudie had both been a live long before the town was officially established. Every person who lived on the main street of Maycomb with Atticus and Jean were at least twenty years older than her (not counting Maudie and Atticus). Of course there were people closer to Jean's age in town, but she did not have the opportunity to see them as much as women like Stephanie Crawford and Rachel Haverford. She loved her home, but sometimes found herself missing the companionship of women her own age.

"I'm glad you're coming," Maudie smirked as Jean met her at her front steps. "I'm so _tired_ of hearing everyone speculate how you've gone back to Montgomery for good."

"I'm sure that would just _tickle_ Stephanie," Jean responded sarcastically. "If I ever left that woman would run out of stories to fabricate."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Maudie retorted, smiling to herself. "She'd probably still be making things up."

Jean rolled her eyes as the two of them stood on Stephanie's porch. Maudie, still smiling to herself, knocked on her neighbor's door as her cousin sighed to herself. "Smile, or she'll make up some awful rumor that yours and Atticus' marriage is ending." Maudie said through gritted teeth, making Jean fake a smile as Stephanie opened the door.

Stephanie's teas were relatively small these days. It was usually her, Rachel and Maudie, as well as a couple of boring ladies who lived down the street. Mrs. Dubose, Jean's cantankerous old neighbor, used to attend these things regularly and would spend the entire time complaining about how girls these days were getting looser in their morals (Jean desperately wanted her to meet Louise). However, Mrs. Dubose's health was starting to go (the woman was so old Jean was surprised she was still in good spirits), and Jean was thankfully spared her _lively_ personality.

"Oh, Jean, you look so pale!" Was the first thing Stephanie Crawford exclaimed as she ushered Jean into her sitting room. All of the other ladies had already arrived and Jean had to force herself to not roll her eyes as she set herself on the sofa next to Rachel. "Are you sure you're not comin' down with anything?"

"I'm fine," Jean said pleasantly.

"Where's the baby?" Stephanie gushed. "You know how we _love_ it when you bring him." Somehow, Jean didn't think that was true.

"Cal's looking after him, he's walkin' real good now so he's gettin' into _everything_." Jean explained.

"Oh, how sweet." Stephanie said. The woman's false cheeriness was so unbearable that Jean felt a pang in her stomach. "How've you been dear? After your poor sister—"

"I'm just fine," Jean interrupted.

"You poor thing, it's probably been so difficult." Rachel added, shaking her head.

"Everything's alright,"

The rest of the tea had gone on how they usually did. Stephanie babbled on and on about various people in town and how they were acting strangely (Jean wondered if they did it on purpose to rile Stephanie up), as the other women nodded and murmured their agreements. As usual, Jean sat across from Maudie so that the two of them could exchange glances and roll their eyes at each other while everyone else was too distracted.

"Have you seen your brother-in-law recently, dear?" Stephanie asked Jean as her stomach clenched. Feeling uncomfortable, she shifted in her seat.

"What?" She asked, almost sounding exasperated.

"Have you seen Jack?"

Jean held onto the side of the couch as a wave of heat flushed through her. Her stomach felt tight, almost unbearably tight. Trying not to grimace, she leaned forward, pretending to get a better look at the woman. "Not… not since Christmas," she said, swallowing. Was it completely obvious to the other ladies that she was going into some sort of fit? She could've sworn that they were looking at her funny. "Why?"

"I was just wonderin', dear." Stephanie said, shaking her head. "Has he made any passes on you?"

"Made any… _what_?" Stephanie must be up to something—for as long as Jean knew him, Jack acted completely normal (that was probably the wrong word to use when describing Jack Finch) towards her.

"You're young, certainly you know—"

"I know what that means," she said, almost irritably. "Why would you ask that?"

Jean inhaled deeply (which actually made the pain in her stomach worse) as Stephanie fumbled in her seat. "Honey, I thought it was quite obvious that, well, that he—"

"That he _what_?"

"That he loved you!" Stephanie finally blurted out, before looking embarrassed. "We all agree that the way he looks at you isn't right, and—"

"I don't quite understand—"

"Honey, I'm just wonderin' if he said anything to you?"

"No, this is insane."

"Just because he hasn't said anything—"

Suddenly, Jean felt wet and it dawned on her that she knew this feeling all too well. She stopped looking at Stephanie and tried to think—her and Atticus hadn't been trying for a baby but it had been a while since she had her menstrual cycle… she was too absorbed in getting things to be back to normal to even think that another baby would be possible…

But it didn't matter now, she was losing it.

It was almost as if she was paralyzed. Not only was she losing a baby that she didn't even _know_ about, but here she was sitting on Stephanie Crawford's couch, bleeding all over it. She was never going to get out of the house with this being unnoticed. It wasn't like she could move, anyway. She was too afraid.

"Honey, I know that it's an uncomfortable subject—"Stephanie began.

"I'm bleedin'." Jean said bleakly, knowing that she might as well admit it. Maudie nearly threw her tea saucer on the ground as she rushed towards her cousin.

"What?" Stephanie asked as Jean brought her attention back to the other woman. From beside her, she felt Rachel get off of the couch and rush away—probably towards Stephanie's telephone.

"I'm so sorry," Jean said, nearly crying. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't you worry," she heard Stephanie mutter.

She was almost immediately surrounded by the other women, which made her feel even worse. They were mumbling and touching her shoulders and trying to move her and all she could think about was the stories that Stephanie was going to tell about this day.

-o-o-o-

Either she had blocked everything from her memory, or she must've blacked out.

The next thing she remembered was waking up in her bed at home, with Maudie and Cal sitting in chairs they had dragged in from the dining room. The moment she woke up, Cal was on her feet.

To anyone that ever asked Jean about Cal, she would simply say that the woman was a godsend. Shortly after Jeremy was born, Atticus and Jean made the decision to hire Cal to help Jean with the baby. She used to work for the Landing, and Atticus was so fond of her that he decided that she would be the best choice for them, and Jean was thankful for it. Cal was only meant to be temporary, helping Jean with Jeremy in the weeks when Atticus returned to work, just until Jean was more comfortable being by herself. But, Jean had taken to the woman so much that she insisted that Cal worked for them permanently. She didn't consider Cal an employee. Rather, she saw the other woman as a companion, and enjoyed her company each day. It made matters even better that Jeremy absolutely _adored_ Cal (and she adored him in return), making each day incredibly happy.

"Miss Jean," Cal said in a whisper as she wrung her hands. For the first _five months_ of Cal's employment at the Finch household, she would refuse to call Jean anything but Mrs. Finch. Jean was quite proud of herself when she finally got Cal to call her by her first name. "Honey, y'all alright?"

Jean pursed her lips. "I'm fine," she said, propping herself up on her elbows. Though she was no longer in pain, she still felt funny. "Though I'm not sure if Stephanie's couch is."

"The old bat will get over it," Maudie said. "You sure you're alright?"

"I feel fine," she repeated. "Maudie, what—"

A frown formed on Maudie's face, and Cal looked worried. "Honey, did you know you were pregnant?"

Jean sighed, and shook her head. She wished she had been wrong, that something inside her was just irregular or something. "No," she said firmly. "I also didn't know that my brother-in-law was supposedly in love with me." She was trying to joke, but her voice sounded subdued.

"Stephanie's just trying to make something out of nothing," Maudie said before brushing the subject off. Slowly, she stood up from her chair and got closer to the bed. "Dr. Reynold's came and check you out, he was quite concerned by the amount of blood, but he reckoned you'd be just fine but told me to call him if you woke up feelin' worse—"

"I'm _fine_. I promise." She said. "Did he say why—"

Maudie put her hand on Jean's head and flattened down some of her hair. "No," she said softly, trying to force a smile in an attempt to cheer her cousin. "He didn't say why. I called your mother for you, she said Atticus was still at his meetin', but she was goin' to let him know."

"Thank you, Maudie." Jean relied. Suddenly, she sat up straighter. "Where's Jeremy—"she began. A small smile grew on Cal's face.

"Don't you worry 'bout him, ma'am." She said. "He's playin' in his room, happy as a lil bird."

Jean started to get up, but both women stopped her. "Ma'am, I'll get you whatever you need." Cal said quickly. "You shouldn't be strain—"

"I'm _fine_." She said for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day. "Cal, it's gettin' late. I don't want you to run into any trouble getting home."

"Miss Jean, I'll stay here with you tonight, in case you need—"

Jean smiled at her. "You don't need to stay, Cal." She said. "I don't want you interrupting your personal life for me."

"With Mista Finch not here—"

"I'm feeling fine—great, actually." Jean said, trying to assure both women. "Jeremy and I will be fine by ourselves. We've been managing for the past few nights Atticus has been gone."

"Yes, but then you—"

"Maudie, don't you nag me," she teased. "Now, will Zeebo be able to take you home, Cal?"

"I can give him a call," Cal said, still looking nervous.

"If not, I'm sure Mr. Underwood wouldn't mind."

"Of course, Miss Jean."

Jean smiled at her. "Don't go lookin' too overjoyed now, I'm not sure if I can handle your excitement."

By now, Cal had gotten used to Jean's teasing nature. Usually, the woman would come back with a clever comment of her own. At this moment, however, Cal still looked uneasy. "I just worry 'bout you, that's all."

-o-o-o-

It had taken Jean a while to convince Maudie and Cal that she'd be fine on her own and that they should go home. Cal had hesitantly obliged to Jean's wishes, but demanded that she come earlier than usual the next morning. Jean tried to convince her not to, but Cal was ultimately successful. Maudie, on the other hand, merely shook her head at her cousin. "If I suspect _anything's_ wrong," Maudie had said, almost glaring at Jean. "I will be here so fast you won't know what hit you."

When they had left, Jean closed the door behind her and sighed. She had suddenly realized that Jeremy was awfully quiet in his room and rushed to make sure that he was still doing alright. She found him sprawled out on the floor, playing with wooden figurines that Caroline had bought for him for Christmas. Intently, he was making little noises and he played, and didn't notice his mother was there until she sat on the floor next to him.

"Mama," he said happily, putting a figurine of a dog in her hands. "Woof, mama!"

"Woof, that's right!" She said cheerfully as she made the figurine pretend to lick Jeremy. That made him laugh hard, and it was almost as if what happened at Stephanie's had been a dream. "Are you havin' fun, baby?"

"Mmm hmm!" Jeremy said as he shook head vigorously.

She spent a few minutes playing with Jeremy, holding up different wooden animals and asking him what noises they made. After he had successfully identified each of his animals _twice_ (Jean swore he was a genius), she watched him as he played to his own devices. After a few moments, she collected him and a couple of his toys in her arms, and brought them to the bathroom.

"I'm goin' to be right in _here_ ," she said, pointing to the shower. Jeremy, however, had distracted himself with a bottle of shampoo that had been knocked on the floor.

After she showered, she bathed Jeremy and dressed him for bed. If there was one thing he hated, it was bedtime. Getting him to sleep was always an ordeal—sometimes it took her nearly two hours to rock him to sleep. When she tried to put him in his crib, he began to whimper, threatening to burst into full-fledged tears. That night, Jean decided she was in no rush to put him to bed and set him out on the living room floor with a stuffed animal. He must've been tired, though, because he soon laid himself out on his stomach, resting his head on the toy.

Jean settled herself in Atticus' rocker and flipped through that evening's paper. When the phone rang, she couldn't help but to jump. Jeremy was now out cold on the floor, and was unfazed by the phone. Briefly, she stopped to smile at him before going to the hallway.

"Finch residence," she said once she picked up the receiver.

"Ma'am," the operator said on the other line. "You gotta call comin' in from Montgomery, do you wanna take it?"

"I'll take it," She said. Within minutes, the lines were switched over. While Jean hated the telephone (she always found them strange), she couldn't help but to find it rather impressive that she could be connected to the other line so quickly.

"Finch residence," she said again once she knew she had successfully been transferred to the other line.

"Jean?" Atticus asked.

"Actually, it's Edith Wilson."

"I apologize, First Lady Wilson," Atticus said seriously. "I was under the impression that I was calling home to my wife."

"How was you're meetin'?"

"Your mother told me what happened."

"I think we owe it to Stephanie Crawford to get her a new sofa."

"Are you alright?"

"If one more person asks me that—"

"Sweet—"

"I'm fine. I swear."

"You sound tired,"

"It is nearly nine o'clock."

"I've arranged it so I'll be home the day after tomorrow," he said.

"The governor must be devastated his best legislator is leavin' so soon."

"They'll be fine without me. It's actually rather borin' here."

"Have you been sleepin' alright?" She asked, leaning herself against the wall. "I know how those young bucks like to keep you out late."

"I'm sleepin' fine."

"Have you been takin' your soda?"

"Yes, sweet."

"You feelin' alright?"

"Don't change the subject, please."

"What were we even talkin' about?"

"Did you know you were—"

"No." She said shortly.

"Did the doctor say why—"

"No."

"Your mama said Maudie told her you were bleedin' so much you passed out, are you sure you're feelin'—"

"I'm okay, sweet, I promise." The less she talked about it, the more it was like the incident never happened at all.

"Is someone there with you?"

"Besides Jeremy, no."

"Why not?"

"Told 'em to leave."

"See if Maudie can—"

"It's _fine_."

" _I'd_ feel better if—"

"Well, you're not here."

He sighed on the other end. "Besides this, how was your tea with the ladies?"

She chuckled to herself. Whenever he asked her how tea was, especially when it involved Stephanie Crawford, it was his way of asking if she had heard any more preposterous gossip. "According to Stephanie," she began. She heard Atticus laugh softly to himself, knowing that she was going to say something good. "According to Stephanie, your brother's in love with me."

"Jack?" He asked, laughing harder.

"I think she meant the twin you never knew you had…" She began. "Yes, Jack!"

He was still laughing. "Just when I didn't think it was possible for Stephanie to come up with anything new," he said. Jean could imagine him standing in her mother's hallway (he always stayed with her when he was in Montgomery for the legislature) grinning to herself. The mere thought of it made her smile. "Jack usually tells me everything, and I haven't heard this before so either Stephanie is awfully bored or my brother is hidin' somethin' from me."

"Considerin' Stephanie's track record, I'm thinkin' it's her makin' things up." Jean laughed.

"Or she might have the wrong Graham girl in mind," Atticus said, his voice lowered as though he was trying to ensure that Edith didn't hear him.

"And what do you mean by that?"

"Speakin' of my brother," Atticus said slowly. "Louise is off in Nashville visitin' him."

"They're friends!" Jean laughed. "She's been there a couple of times before."

"I know that," he said. "I'm just sayin'—"

"Did Jack say something to you!?" She nearly gasped. "Because Louise hasn't said _anything_ about him and—"

"He hasn't said anything," Atticus clarified. "But he's never taken to anyone like he has to Louise."

"You rascal," she said, scowling to herself. "They probably just like bein' mischievous together."

"Then why would she visit him so often?" He asked.

"I'm goin' to give you a quick reminder that Jack and Louise aren't normal people like we are. They probably sit around drinkin', comin' up with ways to drive you, Alexandra and my mother all crazy." She said, laughing. He chuckled on the other end.

"We'll see." He said.

"You sound tired, baby." She said. "You should go to bed."

"I miss you," he said. "And I frankly feel strange about sleepin' in the bed you slept in as a teenager."

"I think there's a snapshot of you in that end stand next to the bed if you wanted to look."

"Will you be alright tonight?" His tone sounded serious again.

"Mm hmm."

"Promise?"

"I swear on Louise's life."

"If I get a call that she dropped dead…"

"Go to bed, sweet."

"Goodnight,"

"Wait,"

"What?"

"I miss you." She said slowly.

"I'll be home before you know it." He said. "I left you a note."

"Where?"

"In my office. I hid it in a book, but you'll find it easily."

She smiled to herself at the fact that she taught her husband a thing or two. "Love you, sweet."

"I love you, too." He said, before dropping his voice to a whisper. "I really ought to go—your mother is watching me."

She laughed to herself as she said goodbye to him again and hung up the receiver. When she went back into the living room she saw that Jeremy was still sleeping on the floor. Gently, she cradled him in her arms (still thankful that he was small enough to be cradled) and instead of putting him in his crib, she placed him down on her bed. Ensuring that he was secure and wouldn't fall while she was gone, she quickly went into Atticus' office and turned the light on. She crossed the room and picked up the book that was laying on his desk, and flipped through the pages until a scrap of paper fell out.

 _Hopefully I won't get into too much trouble with the governor for being distracted by the thought of you while I'm gone. A._

She smiled at her husband's simplicity, folded the letter up and put it in the pocket of her nightgown before returning to her room. As she wrapped her arms around her son, she smiled again over how she was lucky to have him. She'd be grateful for more children, but at least she had her son.

She also knew that Stephanie Crawford was going to talk about the day Jean ruined her sofa probably for as long as she'll live.


	6. Chapter 6

"If you do decide to graciously get that old bat a new sofa, I think you should pick the most hideous one," Louise had said when she called the next morning. Jean had been sitting in the kitchen with Jem and Cal, drinking coffee and trying to carry on as usual when the phone rang. It hadn't even been a whole day since the situation at Stephanie's house, and Jean found that her phone was ringing far too much for her liking. If there was one thing she hated, it was the telephone, strictly because women like Stephanie Crawford or her sister-in-law were always calling to inform Jean about some stupid piece of gossip. Or, in this case, people were calling to check up on her, which was entirely unnecessary.

"Who told you?" Jean asked, as she pursed her lips.

Louise mumbled something on the other end.

"Well?" Jean asked.

"What does it matter?" Louise responded quickly.

"I'm just curious. Was it mama or Atticus?"

"Atticus called twenty minutes ago," Louise replied. " _And_ I talked to Edie."

"Did they tell you to check up on me? Is _that_ why you're callin'?" Jean asked mockingly.

"I'm an adult, I made the decision all on my own, _actually_." Louise said. "When someone hears their sister almost _bled to death_ —"

"Ha!" Jean cackled. "Who said that, your mother or your brother-in-law?"

"I thought _I_ was the spiteful one," Louise said. "I heard you passed out, you bled so much. Now, I'm no doctor but I am stayin' with one—"

"Speakin' of that," Jean said. "Atticus is convinced you and Jack are secret lovers."

"There are so many things I could say in response to that, but I'm not gonna." Louise said. "Don't go changin' the subject."

"There's nothin' to talk about."

"I can leave in the next day or so and come to Maycomb to stay with you."

"I don't want to interrupt your little escapade—"

"Will you shut up?" Louise said. "Just 'cause you're upset—"

"I'm _not_ upset, I didn't even know about it. If you saw me now you'd be amazed at how perfectly _fine_ I am." Jean said haughtily.

"Yeah, you're not upset just as the sky isn't blue." Louise said sarcastically.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I'm just sayin', considerin' what happened last time—"

"This is completely different." Jean said quickly. She imagined how annoyed Louise must look, and couldn't help but to feel glad about it.

"You're puttin' your heart in a box, Eugenia." Louise said tersely.

" _What_?"

"Don't play dumb," Louise said. "You pretendin'—"

"I'm _not_ pre—"

"If you interrupt me one more time, I'm hangin' up you wench." Louise said quickly. "You pretendin' that everything is all fine and dandy is goin' to bite you in your ass. Ever since you woke up you've been puttin' your heart in a box and pretendin' that nothin' happened and it's all gonna hit you like a ton of bricks. You won't be _as_ upset as you will be later if you just stop pretendin'."

Jean couldn't lie, Louise's bluntness sometimes startled her. "Look, sweet," Louise said, her voice softening up a bit. "I wasn't tryin' to be spiteful, I'm just sayin'—"

"I heard you," Jean said softly.

"You mad?"

"No."

"You don't need to lie to me, my ego will be just fine." Louise said with a chuckle.

"I ain't lyin'."

"What's the matter then?"

"Nothin'."

"You're a very convincin'—"

"Will you just stop?"

"Sorry,"

"Don't apologize."

"You're killin' me, I don't know what you want—"

"Nothin', I don't want anything."

The two of them were silent for a few moments. Stubbornly, Jean sniffed and fidgeted on her feet. Louise made another incomprehensible noise on the other end. "Sorry." Jean said softly.

"I mean, if I owed Stephanie Crawford a new couch, I'd be a little miffed too." Louise said, making Jean smile.

"Do you _really_ think I owe her a new one?" Jean asked exasperatedly.

"What would Alexandra Hancock say?"

"She'd probably say yes."

"Then hell no," Louise said, and Jean could imagine her smirking. "Do you want me to come?"

"No." Jean said, shaking her head though she knew her sister couldn't see it. "I don't want to interrupt your life of sin with Jack."

"You listen here!" Louise nearly shrieked, making Jean laugh. "Your husband is _wrong_. I'd rather _die_ than be in love with Jack Finch!"

Before Jean could say anything in response, she heard Louise speaking loudly (though incoherently) to Jack on the other end. After a few seconds, she said: "Jack would like you to tell Atticus that he is awfully insulted by the fact that _his own brother_ would dare think that Jack loved me."

"I'll be sure to relay the message." Jean said, smiling to herself. "Unlike you, I actually have responsibilities so I'm going to go."

"Kiss the baby for me," Louise said, and quickly added: "When you're ready to be upset, just give me a call, I'm here." Jean merely hung up the receiver.

-o-o-o-

When Atticus finally returned home from Montgomery the next afternoon, Jean knew he was watching her carefully. She also could tell that he seemed uneasy. Instead of going to his office to catch up on whatever he had missed while he was away, he stayed home. He played with Jeremy on the floor of the parlor and read to him from the newspaper (Jean swore Jeremy was going to have a keen interest in economics or something boring by the time he was five). Jean kept herself busy by polishing their silverware, helping Cal with the laundry and by preparing supper. All while Atticus watched her from the living room.

"Mr. Finch, if you don't mind your business you'll be done for." She said from the dining room as she watched Jeremy climbing all over Atticus. Usually when Jeremy did this, Atticus would hold him upside down or tickle him or do something to make Jeremy laugh so hard he nearly stopped breathing. Instead, Atticus watched her.

"I don't know what you mean," he said, suddenly scooping his son in his arms and tickling him.

"Suit yourself," she responded, going back to the silverware.

After Cal had gone home, supper was eaten and Jeremy was put to bed, Jean and Atticus sat on the porch swing together. While nights had gotten to be quite cold, the two of them still enjoyed sitting outside and watching the neighborhood. It was especially nice during the winter, because women like Stephanie and Mrs. Dubose didn't linger out on their own porches long after dark.

She hadn't seen or spoken to Stephanie since the incident happened. Stephanie had called the house once or twice, but Jean always made Cal say that she was busy so that she didn't need to convince Stephanie just how _fine_ she really was.

It hadn't even been two days since the incident happened, and Jean found that almost the entire town knew about it. Rachel had brought over a casserole of some sort, Mr. Underwood gave her flowers on his way home from work, and Mrs. Dubose made a point of actually being sweet when she saw Jean outside playing with Jeremy. Women from across town called, asking if Jean needed anything, and even when she declined she found that things like crackling bread and ibuprofen were being given to Cal to then give to Jean. It also turned out that Stephanie had even called Alexandra within hours of her miscarriage, and shortly after she had finished talking to Louise, both of her sisters-in-law called, trying to insist that they come to take care of her.

The only person who knew that Jean didn't need to be taken care of was Edith. Despite the fact that she made no offers to come, her mother had called nearly five times in the past two days since her miscarriage happened. "You're not feeling weak, Eugenia?" Edith had asked, though her tone sounded as it normally did. "Is Calpurnia bein' helpful?"

In addition to her mother's calls, Atticus called twice a day for the remaining two days he had left in Montgomery. "If you need me, I'll come home right now, I don't care what anybody says. They'll do just fine without me." He had said one night. Jean felt bad for him, he sounded congested and tired but all he could focus on was how Jean was probably breaking down at home without him there.

But she wasn't. Frankly, she was annoyed by all of the people giving her attention and expecting her to be upset. She had made the decision to block what had happened from her mind in order to give herself more sanity. However, the fact that it seemed as though everybody around her wanted to coddle her and constantly remind her of what had happened made it hard for her to do so. It was like they wanted her to be upset.

The last time she had a miscarriage (which had thankfully was not as public as this one) she let herself shut down. She was so consumed by her grief that she could barely move and spent nearly a week confined to her bed. Is that what people wanted? Did they want her to suffer?

Though, when she allowed herself to think about it, she wondered what life would be like with another baby. She imagined her Jeremy, who was walking and talking and losing all of his baby fat, becoming a big brother and she thought about how loving her sweet little boy would be. She remembered how _happy_ Atticus had been when he first held their son and how absolutely in love he was with Jeremy. Her mind drifted to thoughts of Atticus with Jeremy and a new baby, and somehow things seemed just a little more complete.

 _You're being selfish_. She thought as she mentally kicked herself. _You're lucky to have your baby, why focus on something that's not going to happen?_ But, it was almost as if a Pandora's Box had been opened within her mind.

What was she doing wrong that made her miscarry so many times? What had she done right with Jeremy that she wasn't doing now? She should've asked her mother for advice, like any normal woman did. Did Edith have any problems having her children? Did Charlotte? Why had it seemed like it was going to be so _easy_ , when in reality having a baby was the hardest thing for Jean to do? Despite the fact that it was chilly outside, Jean found herself growing warm.

Suddenly, she felt guilty. She felt guilty for pushing aside the baby she had lost. She felt guilty for pretending that it hadn't existed, for pretending like it wasn't wanted. She felt guilty for pretending that what happened wasn't important. She felt guilty for being so angry towards everyone for asking about her.

Maybe she was just channeling her grief into anger.

She began to wonder what that baby would've been like if she hadn't lost it. Would she have had another little boy, or maybe this time she'd have a little girl that she could put in dresses and bows, with chubby rosy cheeks and big, gummy smiles. She probably would've been a daddy's little girl. Would Jeremy be alright with having a younger sibling? Would he hold them and play with them, or would he try to find ways to kill them like Jean had tried to do with Louise?

Maybe Louise was right. Maybe she was putting her heart in a box and pretending that everything around her wasn't happening and she was just living some sort of life where she just pretended that nothing bad ever happened.

She was sad. She wanted that baby.

While she thought Atticus wasn't looking, she wiped at her eyes. She decided that she'd still be fine, damn it. But she should've known by now that Atticus caught on to _everything_.

As she attempted to conceal her tears, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer to him. _You're fine_ , she repeated over and over again in her mind. However, when he asked her what was wrong, the only way she could respond was through a muffled sob.

Quietly, he led her inside. Furiously, she wiped at her eyes. _This is silly_ , she thought to herself. _You're just being silly_. "It's perfectly acceptable to not be fine," Atticus had told her.

"I am fine," she insisted. If it were so easy for people like Edith and Louise to be fine after things like this, then it shouldn't be too hard for her.

Atticus raised his eyebrows. "Suit yourself," he said pleasantly as he went towards his office. Though he never showed it, Jean suspected that her husband was probably annoyed. Shamefully, she couldn't blame him.

She paced about the house, made sure all of the dishes were put away and that Jeremy's toys were where they belonged. She double, then triple checked to make sure that all the doors were locked. She settled into her nightgown, combed her hair and got ready for bed. She laid on her side of the bed and picked up the book she was reading, but found she wasn't very interested in it.

She still wanted that baby.

Slowly, she got up and left her room. Without knocking, she opened the door to Atticus' study, making him jump ever so slightly. He put whatever he was working on aside and smiled at her.

"I want another baby." She said quickly.

She wasn't sure what she thought his reaction was going to be, but she didn't expect him to look so taken aback. She thought that he would understand, that he would be on the same page as her. After all, it was _him_ who first suggested they tried for a baby before they had Jeremy.

He made a throaty noise, and she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Never mind," she said, forcing a smile before she turned to leave. She was almost to their room when she heard him behind her, but she pretended as though she was unaware of his presence.

"Jean," he said, causing her to finally turn around.

"I'm being silly," she said with a fake chuckle as she kissed his cheek and returned to her side of the bed. "You just go back to what you were doing."

"I…" he started before clearing his throat. "No."

She watched as he carefully slid his shoes off and placed them in his closet before making his way to the bed. He sat down next to her and placed his hand on her knee. "I don't think we should have another baby," he said slowly as she stiffened. She hadn't expected this.

She wasn't sure if she was shocked or hurt or both, but she found that she could just sit there and stare at him. "I enjoy being a father… I _love_ it," he told her as she continued to stare at him. He shifted uncomfortably. "It's just that I think that it's been proven that trying to have a baby is dangerous."

"How is—"

"Sweet, you lost consciousness because you lost so much blood—"

"But when Jeremy was born everything went smoothly—"

"This is the _third_ time this has happened in nearly _three_ years," he said slowly. "I think that the risks outweigh—"

"But we—"

"I just don't think it's wise." He said, smiling at her sadly. "We _have_ our baby… sweet, _please_ don't look at me like that."

She wasn't sure what she looked like, but she was quite certain that she had some sort of mortified expression on her face. For the second time that evening, she felt tears prickling the back of her eyes. She felt _awful_. Awful for the fact that if she had been normal, if she had been able to be able to carry a damn baby, Atticus probably wouldn't be saying any of these things. Awful for the fact that she was so upset over a baby that didn't exist, rather than being happy that she _did_ have her Jeremy. No matter what, she felt awful. She was hurt, more by the fact that it seemed as though things were just so _unfair_ than by her husband, but _life_ couldn't see that—only her husband could. She was taking it out on him though he didn't deserve it, but she wasn't sure if she cared about that at the moment.

The small smile that was on his face faded as he squeezed her knee gently. He stood up and crossed the room to the door.

"Where are you goin'?" She asked softly.

"I need some soda," he said, and she could've sworn she saw him grimace. He flashed her another small smile before leaving.

She should've told him to stay, should've apologized and said she understood what he was saying and where he was coming from. But she _didn't_. She didn't understand why he didn't even want to give it another try, why he was so quick to give up (she couldn't help but to think that it wasn't like him to give up before he even began something). She couldn't help but to think that if they had given up after her first two miscarriages, they wouldn't even be parents at that moment.

Shamefully, she sulked for a few minutes. When a half hour passed and Atticus didn't return, she was tempted to go after him, but instead stayed where she was. She turned the lights off, turned on her side and pretended to be asleep.

She noticed that the clock read quarter past eleven when Atticus returned. Believing her to be asleep, he quietly went about the business of undressing and getting in his pajamas. With her eyes closed, she listened for the sound of him leaving the room again to go to his study. Sometimes, when there was something on his mind, he would spend long hours of the night in his study reading or staring into space as he thought.

But he didn't leave. Instead, he crawled into the bed next to her and pulled her close to him. Gently, he kissed the back of her neck.

"Did I ever tell you about my mama dyin'?" He asked softly. She had to give him credit, he probably had known she was awake this entire time.

She rolled over so that her face was against his chest. For a moment, she buried herself into the front of his pajamas and sat there for a few moments. Finally, she pulled herself away so she could look at him. He looked upset.

"No," she replied softly. The only thing she gathered from Atticus and each of his siblings about either of their parents was that they were both dead.

"I was ten," he told her. "Zandra was seven, and Caroline was three." He added quietly.

"How about Jack?"

"She died _havin'_ Jack," he whispered as her heart sank a little. He wrapped his arms tighter around her waist.

"I didn't know that,"

"I didn't tell you."

"Sweet, I'm—"

"I know what can happen if something goes wrong." He explained, clearing his throat. "Jack never even knew her, and Caroline couldn't remember anything about her… if somethin' happened to you now, Jeremy would never…" He stopped himself.

Jean didn't know what to say, so instead she coughed. "I was scared," he admitted. "When your mother told me what had happened—"

"Atticus—"

"I _can't_ lose you."

She found herself sniffing. "You won't," she said wearily. "We don't have to—"

He kissed the bridge of her nose. "One more time." He whispered.

"What?"

"One more time," he said again. "And if _anything_ happens, I swear—"

"Just one more time." She confirmed, smiling to herself. She'd do it right this time, she swore to herself. She'd do it right and they wouldn't have to worry about this conversation ever again.

Atticus rolled onto his back, but she stayed on her side, observing him. "I think she would've liked you." He told her, smiling to himself.

"Who's that?"

"My mother,"

"I would hope so,"

" _I_ like you," he said as she burrowed herself closer to him. "Though you've become quite good at makin' my ulcer act up, you scoundrel."


	7. Chapter 7

Nearly four months had passed, and Jean still wasn't pregnant.

At the end of January, Jean had received a letter from one of her closest friends from boarding school containing a snapshot of her newborn baby girl. Despite the fact that the baby couldn't even hold her head up yet, she was clothed in an enormous dress and already had a bow in her hair. If it had been any other time, Jean would've allowed herself to spend the extra money towards calling long-distance to New York and spend nearly a half hour gushing over the baby to the new mother. Instead, she carelessly tossed the picture of the baby into the waste-bin with the other trash, and wrote her friend a quick postcard expressing her congratulations. Edith would've berated Jean for being so rude, but she didn't care.

To make matters worse, her "best friend" Katrina gave birth to her _third_ child in April. Katrina had only lived a few houses away from Jean in Montgomery, and although both girls' mothers thought they were the best of friends, Jean considered the girl her arch nemesis. _Everything_ involving the two girls was a competition, even in adulthood. Jean always felt a sickening sense of satisfaction when she saw how envious Katrina was at the fact that Jean and her younger sisters were sent away to a school that Katrina saw as being better than the public one in Montgomery. She also took great pride in knowing that it absolutely _killed_ Katrina that Emmett would rather be with Jean. Even though Katrina was already married by the time Jean broke things off with Emmett to be with Atticus, Katrina wasn't silent in voicing her discontent.

"You're insane!" Katrina had nearly screamed at Jean. "Emmett wants to _marry_ you!"

Jean had felt so _vindicated_ at that moment. After years of silent competition, Jean was offered something that Katrina desperately wanted and rejected it for something _far_ better.

However, the competition continued after that. It didn't even matter that Jean didn't even live in Montgomery anymore, the two of them still communicated somewhat steadily. Jean figured that since she was now twenty-seven years old, it was appropriate for her to try to be cordial and polite. She also didn't want to slowly lose any of her connections in Montgomery, especially considering that she still felt like a complete stranger to her neighbors. Katrina, however, seemed only interested in comparing their husbands and children to one another. Every time Jean spoke to Katrina, she was constantly reminded of how _miserable_ the woman had made her.

"Ooh, you're _so lucky_ , sugar." Katrina said on the telephone nearly a month before she had her new baby. "You've only got one baby to tend after. It's _so difficult_ tending after two little 'uns and bein' about to have the next one."

"It must be," Jean said coolly, scowling to herself. It had been nearly three months since she and Atticus decided to try for just one more baby, and nothing was happening. She knew these things took time, and she couldn't deny that all of their trying was an awful lot of fun, but she was impatient. She wanted her baby.

Katrina had made a sound full of fake-sympathy. "Oh silly me," she replied. "I'm just bein' so _awful_ complainin' after you just lost that precious—"

"I have to go." Jean said shortly. "Jeremy's fussin' and I need to check up on him, but you surely know how that is." She slammed the receiver so forcefully that she caused Atticus to jump and drop his book in the next room.

Naturally, Katrina called Jean just a week after her baby was born. _A week!_ When Jeremy was born, Jean barely talked to anyone for a whole month because she was so obsessed with being with her son. Jean knew Katrina was using that poor baby's birth as another thing to rub in Jean's face. "I can't talk for long, sugar." Katrina said tiredly on the other line. Jean _hated_ how she called her sugar. "I just wanted to tell you _all about_ little Margaret—you would just _love_ her."

"I bet I would," Jean replied, trying her best to sound interested.

"Oh, honey," Katrina said dreamily. "I just wanted to let you know that havin' your third baby is just as rewardin' as havin' your first… you'll know that someday!"

"I know," Jean said in a high-pitched voice.

"The next time that old man of yours is in Montgomery, you must come with him!" Katrina said. Once Katrina and some of the other girls Jean had grown up with discovered that Atticus was fifteen years older than her, they had taken to calling him her _old man_. They tried to make it sound cute and harmless, but Jean found it rude. "You two just gotta see the babies."

" _Atticus_ and I will surely be delighted." Jean said, no longer trying to conceal her discontent. "Now you get some rest, honey, you must be _awfully_ tired."

It was almost as if it had become a ritual of hers to slam the receiver as hard as she could whenever she was finished talking to Katrina. Usually, when Atticus heard his wife talking in that overly-cheerful tone he knew to expect the loud noise at the end of the conversation. Cal, however, was always startled by it.

"Was it that catty lady you grew up with, Miss Jean?" Cal asked from the kitchen.

"You betcha, Cal." Jean mumbled. "I gotta make one more call, but then I'll be in there to help you with whatever you're doin'."

Quickly, Jean picked up the receiver again. Her first thoughts were to call Louise and tell her about how absolutely annoying Katrina was, but as the operator asked her where she'd like to be directed to, she quickly changed her mind.

"Montgomery, Alabama please." She said. After a few moments she was transferred to a new operator. When _that_ operator asked where she wanted to be directed to, Jean again changed her mind. "Beatrice Buford, Sycamore Street."

"Buford residence," her aunt said cheerfully on the other end.

"Aunt Bea?" Jean asked.

"Your ears must've been ringin' because your mama and I were just talkin' 'bout you." Bea said, laughing to herself. "I was just tellin' her how it's been ages since you've called me."

"Sorry," Jean said guiltily. When Jean and her sisters were all growing up, their Aunt Bea was like their second mother. Whenever they needed to be nurtured or coddled, they all went to Bea, who was _always_ ready with warm tea and bread for them. "I guess I've been caught up in things."

"Hold on a second, baby," she said. She must not have moved the receiver far from her mouth, because Jean heard her clearly say. "Edith, I need you to step out for a few minutes."

From the other end, Jean could hear her mother's voice but not quite what she had said. Bea sighed loudly. "Edith, you just mind your own biscuits and get out of here."

"Why are you makin' her leave?" Jean asked.

"Oh, you know how she is," Bea said. "She's _always_ interruptin' and I need to talk to you without any of that."

"Is everythin' alright?" Jean asked, finding herself standing up straighter.

"Everythin's fine over here, baby don't you worry 'bout that." She said. "I want to talk about _you_."

"What about me?"

"Louise said you'd do this."

"Do _what_?"

"Brush everything off." Bea replied. "Honey, I'm goin' to tell it to you straight: you're no good at it. I know you far too good for this."

Jean couldn't help but to feel taken aback. "What—"

"Now you be quiet for a minute, missy." Bea said. "It's been nearly four months since… your incident and you haven't talked about it one bit to—"

"I did," Jean interrupted. "For your information, I did talk about it. To Atticus."

"And what did you say? That everythin' was fine and everyone is makin' somethin' out of nothin'?" Bea replied. "I would like to remind you that I grew up with your mama and watched as you and all your sisters tried to pull that time and time again—"

"Katrina had her baby," Jean interrupted, sighing.

"Honey, what does that have to do—"

"She had her baby _a week ago_ and actually took the time to call me and rub it in my face." Jean said.

"Wait a minute, is that the little girl Louise punched square in the jaw after she cut your hair because it was prettier than hers?"

Jean sniffed, then laughed. She had almost forgotten about that, though she really shouldn't have. Louise _still_ bragged about how she was able to nearly dislocate a jaw at five-years-old. "Yessum." Jean mumbled.

"You're upset about that petty girl?"

"I'm upset because I want a baby."

"Sweet—"

"I don't understand," Jean whispered so that Cal couldn't hear her from the kitchen. She was crying now (she felt so stupid for being brought to tears so easily). "Mama had the four of us so close together and Charlotte had _no_ trouble havin' babies but for some reason it's _so damn hard_ for me. I feel like I'm failin' at somethin' that's supposed to be easy—"

"You of all people know that havin' babies ain't an easy thing—"

"I can't even get pregnant," Jean whispered. "I can't even—"

"I'm goin' to stop you right now,"

"Don't get mama—"

" _Stop_." Bea said firmly. "Honey, if you're goin' to keep sayin' you can't, you might as well stop tryin' because with that mindset nothin's gonna happen."

"You're makin' it seem like havin' a baby is like learnin' to ride a bike or something," Jean sniffed. "Even if I say I _can_ do it, I don't think anything will happen, we've been tryin' for _four_ months—"

"You're gettin' yourself all worked up and it won't do you any good," Bea said. "I'm tellin' you, if you just wake up every mornin' thinking _today's gonna be the day_ and being positive, you're goin' to feel that much better. And I firmly believe what you've been wantin' will come to you. Just because other women are havin' babies and you're not doesn't make you a failure, sweet, you're just at a different stage than them. Hell, I bet Katrina's life seems perfect to you, but I'll bet you all of the money in the world that she isn't as happy with her life as you are with yours."

"I reckon you're right."

"You reckon? Honey, you know I'm right." Bea said, chuckling to herself. "Are you feeling better, sweet?"

"I suppose so," Jean replied, wiping at her nose.

"You'd probably feel better with a warm mug of my tea and some bread and jam," Bea said, making Jean smile. "Though, I'm sure Atticus will make you feel just _fine_ tonight."

Jean gasped, then laughed. "Aunt Bea, you devil!"

On the other end, Bea clicked her tongue. "Honey, don't pretend you're a prude."

-o-o-o-

After her conversation with her aunt, Jean decided to forego her negative thoughts surrounding babies and Katrina and everything else. After giving it some thought, she determined that all of the negativity was weighing her down and making her miserable when she really shouldn't be. On top of that, she was also about to be subjected to Atticus' entire family, and it seemed as though Alexandra and Caroline _always_ sensed whenever something was bothering her.

It had been a tradition for the entire Finch family to have a reunion in May of each year, and naturally it was always hosted by Alexandra at Finch's Landing. The weather was warm enough for the numerous children (and even adults) to swim in the river that surrounded the Landing, and it was comfortable enough for all of the adults to sit outside in the vast amount of land, eating and catching up with one another. Jean had found herself attending these reunions even before she and Atticus were married, yet she still didn't know _everyone_ in his family. She thought that she had a big family, but when looking at the sheer amount of cousins in attendance at these reunions, it made her family look downright tiny.

Jean viewed these events with mixed emotions. Generally, she always enjoyed herself. She and Atticus always stuck close to Jack and Caroline as well as a few of their favorite cousins. On the other hand, there was Alexandra.

It wasn't as though Jean didn't like her oldest sister-in-law, it was just that the other woman made her wildly uncomfortable. Despite the fact that she had known Alexandra before she even met Atticus, Jean never found herself at ease around her. She was constantly criticizing anything and everything, and seemed to think of herself as God Almighty himself. Naturally, she got along quite well with Edith. Jean, however, tried to steer clear from the woman as much as possible.

She and Atticus always arrived to the Landing early in order to help Alexandra with any last minute arrangements she had. In Jean's opinion, their early arrival was of no use considering the fact that Alexandra let Jean do _nothing_ of purpose. Almost every year Jean found herself sitting on the back porch with Alexandra's husband Jimmy while she put everyone else to work.

"Jean, honey, why don't you come here and help me with this ham real quick?" Alexandra called from the kitchen while her siblings were busy setting up the tables outside. Foolishly, Jean found herself perking up with delight. She was actually being put to use!

Quickly, Jean entered the back door into the kitchen where she found Alexandra slicing ham and putting it on serving dishes. If there was one thing Alexandra was good at, besides being petty, it was cooking. "How about you arrange it to look pretty?" She said, her voice eerily cheerful. Smiling, Jean ignored the fact that her sister-in-law was talking to her like she was five, and set to fixing up the dishes.

"You look much better than I expected you to, sweet." Alexandra said as she continued to focus on the ham in front of her.

"What do you mean?" Jean asked. Sometimes, she desperately wished she could bring Louise along to these things.

"After… _what happened_." Alexandra said, almost whispering. "I won't lie, I was afraid you'd look all gaunt and upset."

"Um," Jean stammered, looking at Alexandra with a perplexed expression on her face. "Did someone—"

"I just remember how it was the last time," Alexandra said, shaking her head. "You poor thing."

"Thank you?" Jean said hesitantly. Alexandra had always been keen on bringing up some of the more unfavorable things of the past, and Jean never quite knew how to respond.

"You know," Alexandra said, clearing her throat. "Havin' just one baby isn't that bad. With you just havin' to focus on Jeremy, I know he'll be the most darlin' thing when he's grown up."

Jean put on the biggest fake smile she could muster. "He's already the most _darlin'_ thing, so I don't think we need to worry about that."

-o-o-o-

"Oh, I just love this baby!" Caroline said as she ushered Jeremy into her arms, making the boy burst into giggles. Thankfully for Jean's sake, Caroline and Jack did not enjoy these reunions very much ("you wouldn't either if you had to do it _every year_ of your life!" Jack had once exclaimed when confronted about it) and Jean often kept them company at their table while their older siblings made their rounds to their family members. If the three of them waited long enough, cousins would start flocking to them to give their greetings. Now that Jeremy was born, Jean found that more people were coming to _her_ to see the baby since he was the youngest one there. "Say Caroline!" Caroline said to Jem as she bounced him on her knee.

"Kiki," the boy responded proudly, making Jack laugh.

"Honey, say Caroline," she said again, grinning.

"Kiki!"

"Car-o-line," she said slowly.

"Kiii-kiii," Jeremy responded, mimicking how slowly his aunt was speaking.

"Say Jack!" Jack said.

"Jack!"

"Obviously, I'm the favorite." Jack said, extending his arms. "Give him here."

"He's not a toy," Caroline said to Jack. "I'm not going to throttle him all over the place."

"Kiki, you're being a wench." Jack said mockingly.

"Kiki, wench!"

Both Caroline and Jean glanced at Jack. "Jack you devil, you're too much of a bad influence to even be allowed near my boy." Caroline said proudly, hugging Jem close to her. "We need us some more babies in the family, don't we buddy?" Caroline cheerfully said to Jeremy as she began tickling him. Abruptly, she stopped and quickly looked at Jean.

"Oh honey," she said slowly, biting her lip. "I'm—"

"Don't worry about it," Jean said, smiling. Caroline still looked slightly distressed.

"I feel stu—"

"'Liney, just shut up." Jack said, chuckling as he shook his head and took a swig of his scotch. Jean couldn't help but to smile to herself.

"' _Lineeeey_!" Jeremy giggled, making the smile return to his aunt's face.

"Very good, baby!" Jean said, tousling her son's light brown hair. In response, he made some incomprehensible noises and sprawled out on his aunt's lap.

"How's good ol' Ike?" Jack asked as Atticus sat down beside her.

"He was tellin' me Civil War stories," Atticus responded dryly. "Honestly, I paid very little attention to what he was sayin'."

"No one pays any attention to him, brother," Caroline replied, shaking her head. "I bet he still thinks Abraham Lincoln is president."

"Ha! He's probably wonderin' why we all aren't off to war."

"He's not in the right mind," Atticus said. "We can't make fun of him for that."

"Even if he isn't in the right mind, Zandra still probably swears it's a _beautiful_ mind, even if he thinks slavery should still exist and the South should be seceded from the Union." Caroline said mockingly. In response, Atticus simply shook his head at his sister and plucked Jeremy out of her lap.

"At'cus!" Jeremy exclaimed as he attempted to take his father's glasses. "Wench, At'cus!"

Jack, Caroline and Jean all burst into laughter as Atticus looked down at his son with an amused expression on his face. "Jack, the boy isn't even three yet and you're already teachin' him profanities?"

"How do you know Caroline didn't do it? She taught her daughter how to say damn by the time she was Jeremy's age!"

"Damn!" Jeremy laughed. Although they tried, the boy's parents couldn't hide their enjoyment.

"Zandra would skin you alive if she heard this," Atticus chuckled.

"Well, before I unintentionally teach him even more vulgarities, I'm going to go take a walk." Jack said, standing up, his glass of scotch still in hand.

"I'll come with you," Jean said quickly. "That way I can say hello to all of the people I certainly don't remember from last year, who I certainly won't remember next year."

"Don't worry," Caroline said, smirking. "Me and my baby will be right here—though please do me a favor and make sure that damn son of Alexandra's isn't tryin' to drown my daughter like he did last year!"

-o-o-o-

"Did Caroline upset ya back there?" Jack asked as the two of them walked along the river. At first, Jean could barely hear him due to the sheer amount of noise being produced by all of the people swimming. "She didn't mean to—"

Quickly catching on, Jean shook her head. "Oh, heavens no." She responded. "Why?"

Jack shrugged. "Just wanted to make sure that wasn't the reason why you followed me along, that's all." He said, giving her a small smile as he took a sip of scotch.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about somethin'."

"What's that?"

"A couple of months ago, Stephanie Crawford said somethin'—"

"Ha! This is bound to be great if it's comin' from _Stephanie Crawford_."

"She's convinced you're secretly in love with me," Jean said, laughing to herself at how ridiculous it sounded.

Jack stopped dead in his tracks and gave her a look. "Okay," he said slowly, shaking his head. "Okay, so I have a couple of things to say—"

"This is bound to be good," she chuckled.

"First of all," he said. "Stephanie Crawford hasn't uttered one truth since the moment she could talk and has a heart _nearly_ as rotted as the Headless Horseman—"Jean couldn't help but to laugh at him. "I ain't done, honey. I'm _Alexandra's_ brother—I don't keep _anythin'_ a secret, so that right there should be a clear indication—"

"Honey calm down before you give yourself a stomach ulcer," Jean laughed as she playfully attempted to push him (though she was unsuccessful). "I didn't say I _believed_ her – I just wanted to inform you of what Maycomb has to say about you."

"I don't even live here anymore and these ladies are still drivin' me up a wall," he responded, downing the rest of the scotch in his glass. "I swear, you women are the reason why I like drinkin' so much."

"Here I was thinkin' Alexandra was solely responsible."

"She got me startin', but your entire breed is what keeps me goin'."

"Honey, we don't make you do _anythin_ '." Jean smirked as Jack rolled his eyes.

"Ha! If only y'all knew what witches you were," he responded. "All women should've been burnt at the stake durin' those witch trials—"

"Your logic is obviously flawed, because none of us would be here if that were the case."

Smirking, Jack sighed. "I need another drink," he muttered. "Care to go back to the Landing with me?"

"I think I'll stay here, you enjoy killin' your liver though."

"You demon," she heard him mumble to himself as he walked away from her.

As she watched Jack retreat towards the Landing, she walked a little bit closer to the river. It was getting darker outside, so many of the children who were once swimming were beginning to return to their parents, making the area a nice quiet retreat.

After a few moments, Jean watched as Atticus came towards her with Jeremy in his arm. "I've been looking all over for you," he said, using his free arm to pull her closer to him. "I think we should get leaving soon."

"Now?" Jean asked. "We usually help your sister—"

"There's something more important we need to tend to at home." He said seriously before kissing her. She felt Jeremy grabbing at her shoulders, trying to pull himself down to her level.

"Want mama," he said, squirming in his father's arm. "Mama!"

Smiling, Jean grabbed her son and bounced him around a bit. "Do you want a kiss, too?" She asked cheerfully as Jeremy nodded. Playfully, she took Jeremy's face in one of her hands and planted kisses on his cheeks, making him burst into laughter. She smiled to herself—she _loved_ how he was always so _happy_. "And whatever could we have to attend to so late in the evening, Mr. Finch?" She asked her husband playfully.

He kissed her again and she felt Jeremy squirming between the two of them, giggling as he did so. Looking away from Jean, Atticus scrunched his nose at his son and tickled him under his chin, causing the toddler to flail with laughter. "You know." He said to Jean, pulling her closer to him.

"Not _here_ ," she whispered, smirking at him. "Your family's just a few feet away, I can only imagine what Alexandra—"

"That's why we need to go," he said seriously, smiling down at her. "The longer we take—"

"Stop talking to me," she said, kissing him quickly. "And hurry and say goodbye to your family."

Maybe Aunt Bea was right—maybe today would be the day.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: So I posted something about this in my bio, but I thought I'd put something here too. After this chapter, my updates will probably get a little more inconsistent. I am registered to take the LSAT in December, so I have just a little over two months to prepare for it (ahhh). I have this entire story planned out, so it'll definitely be continued, just at a slower pace. Also, I don't know much about dream meanings, but the dream sequence in this chapter was inspired by scary movies I saw, and not actual research about dreams I did hehe. I sincerely apologize that this chapter is merely proof that I'm currently conducting the hot mess express, I wanted to get at least one more chapter posted before things get a little more hectic.

-o-o-o-

In adulthood, July had become synonymous with Montgomery. Since she was first married, Jean and Atticus always made sure to spend a week and a half with her family. It was during these visits that Jean determined that her husband must actually be an angel on earth because he always remained sane even when being forced to not only subject himself to her family and childhood friends.

Jean couldn't help but to feel bad for her husband during their time in Montgomery, because she knew that he would be doing more productive things if he were at home. While in Montgomery, Atticus made use of his legislative office, but Jean knew it wasn't the same as him being able to work at home. Though they were only gone for a short amount of time, his cases were delayed and he often got far behind on much of the work that kept his office running. He never mentioned this to Jean, but she knew that these frivolous trips were actually a great source of stress for Atticus.

It didn't help that Edith was… well Edith. Despite the fact that she liked Atticus far more than she ever liked Simon or any of the other boys her daughter brought home, Edith was not very good at showing her feelings. By her very nature, Edith was cold. Her coldness had the tendency to make situations awkward, and often times it seemed as though Atticus still wasn't quite used to interacting with his mother-in-law. In addition to Edith's usual behavior, it seemed that ever since Jeremy had been born the visits had transformed from being a low-key tradition to a week full of various social engagements and a lot of people holding and fussing over her baby.

Despite all of the stress associated with these trips, Jean couldn't necessarily say that she hated them. In Montgomery she didn't feel like the young, naïve thing she was portrayed to be in Maycomb. It was almost as if she was still a part of Montgomery even though she had been away for nearly five years. People still knew her and treated her as they always did, and sometimes it seemed as though Montgomery is where she had been this entire time.

It's not that she wasn't fond of Maycomb, she really was. In the years that she had spent there she truly felt as though that was where she belonged (though maybe it was that she belonged anywhere Atticus was). But something inside of Jean thought that Edith was right, that Montgomery and its people and everything about it was a part of her.

This visit was going to be different, though. Not only was this going to be the first visit without Charlotte but Jean found that she needed to be careful this year.

Once Jean had decided to not try to rush having a baby and determined that she was just going to put things in the universe's hands, it seemed as though all of her previous difficulties were just a dream. Finally, she was pregnant! After six months of countless frustrations and nearly giving up, she finally had what she wanted. She was going to have just one more baby. And then she'd be complete.

One of the biggest joys of Jean's life was the sheer amount of joy Atticus displayed the other times she had been pregnant. His eyes seemed lighter, and he seemed to smile more. Despite the fact that they faced two other miscarriages, her usually serious and reserved husband seemed genuinely excited. Sometimes, Jean wished she could see him like that all of the time, because it just made her so immeasurably happy to see him like that.

However, this time was different. Part of her had expected it, especially after what happened at Stephanie's, but it still surprised her. He didn't seem upset, but she knew he was worried. After her appointment with Dr. Reynolds Jean had nearly ran to Atticus' office to meet him and tell him the news. He had given her a small smile, kissed her, and told her he was excited. That had only been two weeks ago, but it already seemed like an eternity.

But he looked scared. Sometimes when they'd sit on the porch together or while they were lying in bed, he'd stare off with a concerned look on his face. When she'd ask him what was bothering him, he would brush it off. But she knew something was wrong—his ulcers were acting up more often. She couldn't blame him though, and sometimes she couldn't help but to think about how awful it must've been for him to lose his mother so young. She just wished he'd talk about it with her more often.

She wouldn't admit it, but she was scared too. This was now going to be her _fifth_ time being pregnant, yet she only successfully carried one baby. She knew she should be content with her Jeremy, but this was her absolute last chance at having another baby. What would happen if she lost it? What would happen if it was worse than what happened at Stephanie's? She couldn't even imagine the amount of guilt she'd feel if Atticus had been right about his worries. She didn't want to think about what could happen. That was all beyond her control, however, and she found she shouldn't spend all of her time worrying over what she couldn't control.

Just as they had done when she was pregnant with Jeremy, she and Atticus decided not to tell anyone yet. They had decided that it was still too early, and given their previous track record, they didn't want to risk anything. But, even though she knew that things could still go wrong, it was like the news was burning inside of her. Despite the fact that there was a lot that scared her, she found herself so happy that she just wanted to tell anyone and everyone about the baby. Instead, she found herself constantly bringing up the baby to Jeremy.

In four months her Jeremy was going to be two. _Two!_ He was now running and speaking in pretty coherent sentences, and once his daddy came home from work Jean found that the only place her son could be found was in his father's lap. She couldn't help but to be excited by the fact that she'd now have _two_ babies. Despite the fact that he was so young, Jean knew her son was going to be the best big brother.

"Do you want a brother or a sister?" She asked him one morning while she was getting him dressed, even though she knew he probably had no clue what she was talking about.

The little boy had shrugged his shoulders, a cheesy smile on his face. She scrunched her nose at her son as he grabbed at her hair. "We're goin' to be a big family now," she said cheerfully to him as she twirled one of his light curls around her finger. "With mama, and daddy—"

"At'cus!" Jeremy laughed, making Jean laugh.

"With mama, and Atticus, and Jeremy and baby," Jean finished as Jeremy giggled again.

"Big family," Jeremy cooed back as his mama kissed his head.

-o-o-o-

"Do y'all want some lunch?" Edith asked as she ushered the three of them into Beatrice's house. Since Edith already had Harriet, Clara and Libby staying under her roof Jean determined that it might be easier on her mother if they stayed with Bea. However, Jean fully expected her mother to spend nearly every moment of the trip at Bea's. It was almost as if nothing would stop Edith from hovering. It was still early in the day, but with how long it took them to get to Montgomery, Jean felt like she could easily fall asleep and not wake up until the next morning.

Subtly, Bea rolled her eyes and hugged her niece. "They're just gettin' in, fussy pants. Let them have a minute!"

"I think we're quite fine right now," Atticus replied with a smile as Jeremy started to whine. "I think our first matter of business is gettin' him down for a nap."

"I set up a sleeper for him in the spare bedroom, so it's all ready for you sweet." Bea smiled as she attempted to make Jeremy laugh (though she wasn't successful).

"Thank you, ma'am." Atticus said politely. "I'm just gonna bring him up real quick."

As he went up to the guest room, Edith examined her daughter. "You look different," she said, examining her daughter.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about." Jean replied. "Where's Louise?"

"She and Harriet went off to a bridge game," Edith responded, making Jean chuckle. Louise _hated_ bridge games. "What do you plan on doin' while you're here?"

Jean shrugged. "The same as usual. Seein' you and Louise and the aunts and stuff."

"Are you goin' to see Katrina?"

Jean had to force herself not to cringe. She noticed Bea giving her a look. "I don't think—"

"You really should, her baby is nearly two months old now." Edith said. "I think she'd appreciate a visit from her best friend." Bea rolled her eyes for the second time.

"I reckon I'll stop by—"

"Good, I told her you'd come today—"

"What?" Jean asked. "And you didn't think to tell me until _now_?"

"It's not like you're bound to anything, Eugenia." Edith replied. "Don't go makin' a fuss."

"Is Louise at least comin'?"

"You know those girls don't like each other," Edith said. _I don't like Katrina either_ , Jean thought viciously to herself. "I'm honestly surprised she has any friends here."

Bea slapped Edith's arm. "And you wonder how Louise came to be so hateful." Bea said, making Jean smirk.

-o-o-o-

"Oh, sugar don't mind the mess." Katrina said lazily, her baby propped against her shoulder. Jean looked around, there was _no_ sign of a mess. "It's just so hard takin' care of all these babies. Where is your Jeremy?"

"He's nappin' with Atticus," Jean replied with a smile. She was sitting on Katrina's overly-cushioned sofa with a glass of iced tea perched on her lap. The only reason why she was smiling was because she was thinking of all of the other (far better) things she could be doing. "The two of them were just so tuckered out after our ride here."

"You need to bring 'em over before you leave!" Katrina exclaimed. "It'll be so great to see all kids playin' together. Why, you could even pretend that it's Jeremy playin' with some siblings!"

Jean was still smiling, though she knew that Katrina was intentionally throwing a dig at her. She didn't care though, because she _knew_ she was going to have another baby and Katrina wasn't going to take that away from her.

"Margaret is just _beautiful_ ," Jean said, completely disregarding what Katrina had said. "Mind if I hold her?"

Katrina gave Jean one of those fake, big smiles she was infamous for. "Oh, _of course_ , sugar." She said, standing up from her armchair. Delicately, she placed the baby in Jean's arms.

Jean wondered what _her_ baby was going to look like. Before Jeremy was born, she and Atticus would spend _hours_ at night lying in bed, talking about what they thought the baby would look like. Atticus had been thoroughly convinced that Jeremy was going to be a little girl with blonde curls like Jean. As it turned out, Atticus was only partially right—Jeremy did have her hair.

She couldn't wait for them to talk about this baby. She wondered if Atticus was still imagining his little girl with blonde curly hair, or if his thoughts had possibly changed after having his son. Smiling, she looked down at little Margaret. Despite the fact that Katrina was absolutely _dreadful_ , she did make some beautiful children. The next seven or eight months were bound to fly by, and soon Jean would be holding her own baby.

"How've you been, sugar?" Katrina asked. "You know, ever since—"

"Just fine," Jean smiled.

"That was always you're slogan growin' up," Katrina responded, rolling her eyes. "Eugenia 'Just Fine' Graham."

"Honey, it's been nearly six months, everything is just fine." Jean said shortly, still smiling. Margaret squirmed in her arms.

"You were always better than me at everything," Katrina said, making Jean sit up. "Your hair was always shiner, you were smarter than me, Emmett loved _you_ , and you look better with a baby than I do."

Jean chuckled. She hadn't lived in the same neighborhood as Katrina in nearly five years, but something about her still got underneath Katrina's skin. Jean felt a sick sense of satisfaction. "As you said, sweet," Jean smirked, her heart rate going up slightly. "I just have my one baby to take care of… things are just much easier for me."

-o-o-o-

"Edie's a goddamn wench for makin' you go over there," Louise exclaimed from Bea's kitchen table once Jean got back. Her mother had gone home, tending over Clara and Libby, so once she returned Jean found her sister and aunt basically force-feeding Atticus in the kitchen. "But I'm not surprised, I have a theory that Edie's Satan and Trina is her most devoted follower." At this, Atticus coughed as he tried to conceal a chuckle. He was always amused by the outlandish things Louise said.

Bea looked over at Louise with wide eyes. "Now, your mama isn't _that_ bad."

Louise did a double-take of her aunt. "That's just what she wants you to think." Louise said, shaking her head.

"Where is my son?" Jean asked, still smiling over what Louise had said.

"He's with your mother," Atticus responded. "Clara and Libby wanted him to sleep with them tonight."

"He meant to say that he's with the devil herself."

"You stop now," Bea said, despite the fact that she was trying not to laugh.

"So," Louise said, dramatically resting her chin on her hands. "How was Trina?"

"Lovely as ever," Jean responded sarcastically.

"Did I tell you Harriet actually _likes_ her?"

"What? How does she even know her?"

"Hattie watches her kids for her all of the time," Louise responded, rolling her eyes. "And then the two of them just sit and drink iced tea and gossip… I swear Hattie's going to be Montgomery's version of Stephanie Crawford!" Atticus chuckled again, making Louise look incredibly pleased with herself.

"I always thought Hattie was the odd one out of all of us," Jean smirked.

"I would've placed my bets on Louise," Atticus said seriously, with a small smile on his face. Louise scowled.

"You've created a monster, Eugenia," Louise said, shaking her head as Jean laughed.

It felt like the four of them spent _hours_ just sitting in the kitchen, talking and laughing about nothing at all. It was nice, being in Montgomery and with her family, not having to worry about whether Stephanie Crawford or her sister-in-law were hearing any outrageous stories about her. When she really thought about it, she found it slightly sad that so far her trips didn't seem too different without Charlotte there. She wondered if Charlotte was watching from wherever she was, and most of all she wondered if Charlotte was happy.

Tiredly, Atticus and Bea had gone up to bed while Louise and Jean remained in the kitchen. "So, how was Trina?" She asked for a second time.

"I told you already, she was her usual self."

"Did she bother you?"

"She always bothers me."

"I mean about…" Louise coughed. "Did she bother you about babies?"

Jean shuffled a little bit in her seat. "She tried to, but I didn't let her."

"You sure?"

"Of course I am!"

"I'll punch her in the jaw again," Louise smirked. "I think she's _still_ scared of me."

"Sweet, you're the definition of a wild child."

"You're actin' like I didn't know that." Louise chuckled. "How was baby what's her face?"

Jean laughed. "Her name is Margaret," Jean responded. "And she's cute."

"Are you, um," Louise swallowed. "Do you think you'll ever have another baby?"

Jean had to stop herself from impulsively telling Louise about the baby. Shuffling in her seat, she felt her face flush. "I'm sorry," Louise said quickly. "I –"

"We've been talkin' about it." Jean said quickly, smiling. "We're just takin' our time."

Louise smiled at her sister. "Good," she said, crossing her arms. "I think I'm just gonna spend the rest of my life pretendin' your children are mine."

Jean couldn't help but to laugh. Maybe Louise was the _odd_ Graham sister, after all. "On that note," Jean said, still chuckling. "I'm going to bed."

Louise winked. "Sure you are," she said. Before Jean left the room, she slapped Louise's arm. It wasn't until she had gone up to the bedroom that she realized how _tired_ she actually was.

-o-o-o-

"She's drunken somethin' funny," the tallest boy said as the three children approached her. A little girl, who was stark white with big, dark eyes, was sandwiched between her two older brothers. She had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't known the three children, yet they looked so familiar to her. She was dreadfully confused—hadn't she just gone to bed?

It was daytime now, and she was at the park that she and Louise frequently played in as children. It looked exactly the same as it did when she was a little girl and she was surprised to see how vibrant the colors of the playground still were. Looking at the girl, who was obviously sick, Jean dropped to her knees and took the girl's face in her hands. She was cold.

But the problem was, she still couldn't quite figure out who these children were. She brought her gaze to the oldest brother. "Where are your parents?" She asked, growing increasingly concerned.

"Mama, what are you talking about?" he asked, seeming relatively calm despite the fact that his sister looked so sick. Jean felt her stomach drop. These weren't here children—they were too old, and neither of the boys were here Jeremy. What was going on?

"What did she drink?" She asked, her hands still on the girl's cold and clammy face. She ignored the fact that the boy had called her mama. She tried to wrap her mind around this—it was all too bizarre.

"Bleach," the two boys said in unison, as though it was nothing at all. Jean nearly screamed. How had her unknown child been able to drink bleach?!

"Bleach?!" She asked as she frantically began to look around the park. "Atticus!" But her husband was nowhere to be seen.

Before Jean could do anything else, the girl made a sputtering noise and vomited blood on Jean's white dress before collapsing in her arms. She was dead. She didn't know what to do, she couldn't even scream. Despite the fact that the girl had just _died_ in front of them, the two boys looked unfazed. Jean wanted to scream, to shake some sense into them—didn't they know how _serious_ this was?

-o-o-o-

She didn't remember walking to Charlotte's old house. In fact, she didn't remember much. She didn't remember what happened with her children (though she swore they weren't hers), or what happened with the little girl, or if the boys finally realized the severity of the situation. The only thing she knew was that she still had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. Everything seemed too surreal for her. But, the next thing she knew she was walking through Charlotte's back gate, but _why_ was she going here? Her sister had been dead for nearly a year now.

When she saw the makeshift pool in the backyard, she immediately went to it. Her dress was still dirty and she was probably covered in the girl's blood. She could at least wash off some of it before going inside to properly clean herself off.

But, when she stuck her hands in the tepid water, they were clean. She looked down and examined her dress. That too was clean. How was that possible? How could any of this be possible?

She heard giggling and turned to see her Jeremy playing in the yard. He was by himself, playing with an old ball. She smiled to herself at the sight of him enjoying himself.

"Jeremy, throw it to mama," she said, but perhaps he hadn't heard her because he continued to play by himself. "Jeremy," she said again, playfully.

"He can't hear you," an unfamiliar voice from behind her said. She turned quickly and nearly gasped when she saw him.

It was Simon.

He looked older, but Jean _knew_ it was him. His cheeks were now gaunt and his eyes dark like that girl's had been. "Simon," she said aloud, still smiling. She went to touch his cheek but he moved away.

"We have to go," he informed her, his voice sounding dull.

"Where are we going?"

"Not you," he said as he crossed the yard to Jeremy. Her son stopped playing with the ball and took his cousins hand.

"Well, where are you going?"

"You'll see." Simon said as they crossed the yard again. Simon instructed his cousin on how to climb onto the tree branch that was just over the makeshift pool… it was a sight that Jean knew too well.

She felt a jolt in her stomach and gasped as the two boys prepared to jump. Before she could scream, tell them to stop or do anything, she felt as though she was being shaken.

"Jean," Atticus said loudly, sounding concerned. "Jean, wake up—you're bleeding!"


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry this chapter seems to be really drawn out, but just and I promise things will get to be more uplifting soon! I apologize if things seem repetitive, I wrote this in various sittings and decided to just go ahead and post it without doing a thorough re-read of it.

-o-o-o-

Apparently, Jean had been crying in her sleep, which had caused Atticus to wake up. When he observed that she was in fact still sleeping, he attempted to wake her up. It was then he noticed the blood.

In Atticus' process of attempting to wake up his wife, Aunt Bea had woken up. From the mere tone of Atticus' voice she knew something was wrong and went running to the room where they were staying in.

At that moment, Jean found that all she had been able to do was to continue to cry. She wasn't sure the exact reason for it—whether she was still reeling from the dream she had, or because she was mourning because she knew she had lost her last chance at her baby. It was never going to happen.

"Sweet," Atticus whispered with a hint of urgency in his voice. "Sweet, please open your eyes."

He was nearly on top of her. He was at her side, perched on his knees so that he was kneeling over her. With shaking hands, he was pushing the hair away from her face. "I'm so sorry, baby," he whispered to her. They both knew too well what was happening.

The first thought that crossed her mind was Jeremy. She knew he was safe, sleeping at his grandmother's house with his cousins, but she _needed_ him there. She couldn't get the image of him and Simon out of her mind, and she needed to see him, to hold him, to know that he was still there. If she had ever lost him, she would be as good as dead.

The second thought that crossed her mind was the fact that she made a mess of Aunt Bea's guest bed. Bea would _never_ ask her niece to replace anything, but Jean thought she probably should. She thought of Stephanie and her damn sofa, and felt ashamed.

She heard her aunt quietly say she was going to call for a doctor and Edith, and Jean wanted _anything_ but to be there and to see her mother and her sisters and Katrina and anyone else. She found herself filling up with shame more than anything—what the hell was she doing wrong? Countless times she was told not to be humiliated, not to let herself get caught up with the things beyond her control, but she just couldn't help it. She now felt as though this was a personal affront against her by some superior being punishing her for some unknown misdeed. She was hurt, by everyone and no one at the same time, and she just wanted to know _why_.

Finally, she opened her eyes.

Once she caught a glimpse of Atticus, she wished she had kept them closed. She had rarely seen him scared, and at that moment he looked absolutely terrified. She thought of him at ten-years-old and losing his mother and she wondered if he thought he was going to lose _her_ , too. Immediately, she was filled with immense guilt. What gave her the right to put him through this? By now she should have been well aware of what was going to happen, she should've listened to him, she should've been content with the way things were. But she wasn't, and now her husband was looking down at her with such an expression of fear in his eyes that she wanted nothing more than to tell him how sorry she was, tell him how he was right, and then promptly allow the Earth to swallow her up. She was ashamed, she was ashamed, she was ashamed. At that moment she thought that nothing could quite explain the mortification she was feeling.

Her throat was dry, her eyes were wet. She certainly ruined her nightgown, and the sheets, and quite possibly the mattress. It wasn't until she was fully awake did she realize that the feeling in the pit of her stomach wasn't just something that existed in her dream. It _hurt_. She felt as though something inside of her was being bent, and knew it wasn't over. She just wanted it to be over. She wanted her son, she wanted her husband to stop looking so panicked. She wanted her mother, but she didn't at the same time. She found she was in a position where she no longer knew what she wanted and what she didn't want and felt so out of control of her life that she was now scared. She was ashamed, she was afraid, she was sad.

"The baby," she finally said, her voice hushed and not sounding quite like herself. She could've sworn she saw tears in Atticus' eyes, and she only felt worse.

"I'm sorry," he said again, his hand resting on her forehead.

"I mean Jeremy," she said, clearing her throat. "Where is he?"

"Don't worry," Atticus said. "He's with your mother, he's fast asleep—"

"I need him," she said. "I need—"

"Soon," he assured her. "You'll have him soon, we need to make sure—"

She tried to stop herself from sobbing, but failed. Soon enough she was crying again and Atticus was holding her against his chest but she didn't feel like she deserved his compassion. He should be mad at her, she thought to herself. He should be mad at her and telling her that she'd been foolish and that she should've listened to him all long. But, he didn't. Instead he held her, comforted her, gave her his assurances that she'll be fine and that everything will be fine. She determined that she must've done _something_ right to have _him_ , her saint of a husband.

She wanted to tell him of her dream, of the dying little girl and her own Jeremy. But she couldn't. Every time she tried to speak she grew increasingly aware of the lump in her throat and didn't even try to speak. She was a mess, both literally and figuratively, but he didn't care and he stayed.

He always stayed.

-o-o-o-

When she woke up, the first thing she noticed that somebody had put Jeremy in bed with her. He was sleeping, which caused her to wonder how much time had passed. Hell, she didn't even know what time it was when Atticus woke her up. The second thing she noticed was that she was no longer at Aunt Bea's house.

Quickly, her eyes scanned the room around her. Her surroundings were all light colored and calm as though the room was trying to engulf her and comfort her. It had taken her a few moments to notice that she was in fact in a hospital. Who had taken her here? When did she get here? As hard as she tried, she couldn't remember what happened in between waking up and now.

She felt shaky, and despite the fact that she had felt as though she had been asleep for _days_ she was still tired. Her eyes scanned the room for Atticus, but he wasn't there. With the exception of her and Jeremy, the room was empty. She had a nervous, dreadful feeling in the pit of her stomach. She tried to calm herself by thinking that if they had allowed Jeremy in with her, then the rest of her family had to be somewhere nearby.

She wished that this all was merely a continuation of that strange dream she had been having. Actually, she wished that the entire month of July had been a dream and when she actually wakes up she'll be home in Maycomb with Atticus and Jeremy. She'd chuckle to herself about how bizarre that dream was, but would be thankful that it was simply that: a dream.

But it wasn't.

Instead, she was confined to a bed in Montgomery, wishing that she were anywhere else. Her cheeks flushed warm again as the familiar feelings of embarrassment and grief washed over her. Quickly, she looked at her son. His cheeks were flushed red from sleep and his hair was disheveled. Part of her was filled with happiness and gratitude that she at least had him, but part of her still remained fearful as a result of her dream. Here he was right in front of her, yet she was still scared that he would disappear. Gently, she ran her fingers through his sandy hair. He made a muffled sound, but burrowed his face deeper into the duvet and remained asleep.

Appreciative that Jeremy was a deep sleeper, Jean slowly moved him so that he was now laying on her, his face resting in her chest. She felt him breathing, she knew he was there. Yet, she knew something inside of her wouldn't feel completely better until he was awake and laughing and babbling and tugging at her hair and doing everything he usually did. But until then, she figured this would suffice.

When Atticus entered the room, she assumed that he wasn't expecting her to be awake by the look on his face. When he initially entered, he still had that fearful look in his eyes that he had earlier that morning ( _had it been that morning?_ ) but when he saw her gazing at him, he gave her a small smile. With a few strides, he crossed the room and set himself on the chair that was near her bed. It wasn't until he was over there that Jean noticed the newspaper and book that were on the ground by it—he had been there the entire time.

"Do you need anything?" He asked, his voice low. "The doctor? Your mother is just outside—"

"No," she whispered simply, attempting to return his smile. "I don't need anythin'."

"You sure?"

"I promise."

He kissed her head, and her heart sunk when she noticed how dark the bags under his eyes were. His ulcers were probably bothering him, too. "How long—"

As he sat down, he took one of her hands and started to rub at her knuckles. "You woke up at about two this mornin'," he told her. "It's now seven in the evenin'."

"How long have I been asleep?" She asked, sitting herself up as best as she could with Jeremy on top of her. "This doesn't seem normal."

"They had to give you somethin'," he told her, a small frown forming on his face. "You were bleedin' an awful lot, but," he cleared his throat.

"But _what_?"

"The bleeding just wouldn't stop so we brought you here," he said, swallowing. "It was as if once you got here you started to panic or somethin'… you were hysteric… you were sayin' that somethin' had happened to Jeremy and the doctor gave you somethin' that put you asleep and—"

"Are you okay?" She felt tears burning in the back of her eyes, but she blinked them away. Atticus looked at her as if she was insane.

"What?" He asked, blinking.

"Are you okay?" She asked again.

"Are _you_ alright?" He asked in response. He was attempting to deflect her, but she wasn't going to let him do so. She couldn't quite get over that look of anxiety in his eyes, and it occurred to her that nobody probably worried about _him_. While the focus had been on her, she couldn't help but to think that nobody noticed _him_ and how he was scared. They probably hadn't known of his mother, known of the worries he was holding inside himself all month.

She slid towards the side of the bed, leaving an opening for him to join her. "Lay with me," she said, motioning to the open space.

He shook his head. "I want you to be comfortable." He told her.

"I won't be unless you're here."

Obligingly, Atticus slid off his shoes before easing himself into the bed. In response, Jeremy made a small whimpering noise, but again went silent. Atticus gently put his hand on his son's head. "He didn't get a nap today," he told Jean. "Just an hour ago the poor thing was so miserably tired I didn't even care that he won't sleep through the night."

Initially, she didn't respond. Instead, she simply looked at her husband. He was lying there with his eyes closed, his fingers still brushing against her knuckles. Her heart ached. In the midst of _her_ mourning for the loss of her last chance at her baby, Atticus had unintentionally slipped her mind. He looked tired, weary almost. She immediately thought about the fear in his eyes and realized that there was a hidden hint of sadness, too. She kissed his cheek, making him twitch slightly. He always tended to get fidgety when he was tired and she reckoned he must've been _exhausted_.

"Atticus?" She whispered, making him open his eyes.

"Are you alright?" He asked again.

"I'm s—"

"Don't say you're sorry." He whispered, a small, sad smile playing on the corner of his lips.

Her eyes burned again. Slowly, she inhaled. "But I _am_." She whispered, her voice wavering slightly. "I should've—"

"It's beyond anyone's control, sweet." He told her. "There was nothing—"

"I should've listened to you—"

"I think you've forgotten that it was a mutual decision,"

"But—"

"This isn't your fault," he whispered, his grip around her hand growing tighter. The lump was growing in her throat again. "None of this is your fault."

She found that, despite what her husband was saying, the only thing she could respond with was: "I'm sorry." She bit down on her lip, feeling foolish once again.

"I wish you weren't." He replied. Though he was smiling at her, his eyes looked sad. She started to cry. "Jean," Atticus started.

"I'm just sad," she whispered, sniffing.

"I know, sweet." He whispered softly. "You're not alone."

She cried harder, and Atticus pulled her closer to him. She was quite certain she would always feel ashamed. "I'm just sorry for this whole thing," she whispered, burrowing her face into his shoulder. She felt Jeremy stir and yawn.

"Jean," Atticus said soothingly, though his own voice was hoarse. "Jean, don't—"

She found that although she just wanted to pour herself out and explain everything to him, she couldn't. She couldn't explain the depths of her sadness or her humiliation, though she desperately wanted to. All she could do, at least in that moment, was weep and profusely apologize. Something deep within her told her to stop, told her to calm down and collect herself as to not cause any more despair to her husband, but she found that she couldn't even do that.

Despite the fact that Jeremy was now awake and happily calling out for her while planting wet kisses on her face, she couldn't stop crying. Atticus held her, resting his forehead against hers, and silently mourned with his wife.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: To be honest, I started this nearly a week ago, and once I finally came to resume it I found that I lost track of exactly where I wanted this to go, so I apologize if it is choppy. Bits of my life have become quite messy recently and I've been conducting the hot mess express for the past two weeks (further proof of that: I almost uploaded a copy of my thesis outline instead of this chapter … good thing I double checked!). I hope this is still worth the wait and enjoyable nonetheless.

-o-o-o-

She felt fragile. She felt as though she needed to move painstakingly, carefully, in order not to shatter into a million pieces.

In the remaining four days she had in Montgomery, she isolated herself at her aunt's house, refusing even to go down the street to her mother's. She had seen Katrina and other childhood acquaintances lurking by Edith's, and Jean wondered how they even found out about what happened. Montgomery was larger than Maycomb, how could news travel _that_ fast?

When Atticus asked her if she wanted to return to Maycomb earlier than they were supposed to, she quickly said no, not in any particular mood to see Stephanie Crawford or the other ladies. She wanted to hide, she wanted to be away. He understood this, and he let her hide, providing a source of comfort that she was deeply appreciative for. However, she soon came to regret that decision. At this point, she'd rather spend time with Stephanie Crawford than her family.

At this moment, Montgomery didn't feel like home. Amongst her family, she felt like a stranger. It was probably because she _acted_ like a stranger. She was so fragile, so vulnerable, and so desperately _ashamed_ that she couldn't even act like herself. Her days continued like they normally did—she played with Jeremy, had lunch with her mother, aunts and sisters, and spent time with Atticus while he had the time off. But she wasn't herself, she felt like she was observing everything from outside of her body. She wasn't really there.

The only two people who acted normally around her were her mother and Atticus. They didn't sugarcoat things or treat her like a child or give her sympathetic glances. Instead, they acted just the same as they did before her miscarriage. She cherished that sense of normalcy, especially when she was around her aunts or sisters.

They all looked at her differently. They would give her sympathetic glances or weak smiles and try to be comforting, but they just didn't understand. They _couldn't_ understand. Despite the fact that Jean was often put off by the way they acted, she didn't want them to understand. If they understood, that meant that _they_ had also experienced it. Jean wouldn't wish that on anyone.

She was having vivid dreams again. But instead of them being about her child(ren) dying, they were about babies. Chubby babies who looked like Jeremy who had darling little laughs and made her heart swell with joy. In her dreams, Atticus was always bouncing the baby on his lap, laughing as the baby did.

But then she woke up. And she lost her last chance.

For the first time in her life, Jean found it increasingly difficult to sense how Louise was reacting to everything. Despite the fact that Louise was generally a closed-in person, Jean knew her better than anyone else. Jean could gather how Louise was feeling just by the expression on her face or the way she carried herself. She couldn't tell if Louise was annoyed or worried or _anything_. For once, Jean was one of the people shut out by Louise.

"I think you should go outside," Louise said, slamming her hands down on the kitchen table. She didn't seem irritated, but Jean could sense her sister wasn't entirely happy. "This ain't doin' you no good."

"I don't want to see anyone," Jean responded quickly, folding her arms and pretending that Louise hadn't startled her. Louise scowled.

"Who says you gotta see anyone?" She asked, mimicking Jean by crossing her own arms. "I just think you need to get out of here. Plus, you're leavin' me soon. We can go to the park and swing like we did when we were kids."

Jean inhaled sharply, thinking back to her dream and that strange little girl that was in it. "Katrina lives by the park," she retorted. "There is no way in _hell_ —"

"If she even takes a step towards you, I'll punch her in the jaw again," Louise smirked. "Plus, Edie told her that she better not dare come near you, or else she'd regret it."

That caused Jean to sit up suddenly. "What?" She asked, perplexed. Louise flashed a mischievous grin.

"One of the nurses that worked at the hospital when you were there was Betty Fenno, you know, one of those girls who has her head shoved up Trina's ass?" Jean couldn't help but to laugh. Even if she was dead-set on being miserable, Louise was good at making her smile. "Anyway, _she_ told Trina all about what happened and naturally Trina comes running to Edie's house to check up on you _the day you came home_ and Edie was so mad that she told her that she needy to get her beady little eyes away from her and to leave you the hell alone or else Edie would be callin' on _her_. I hadn't seen her so riled up since Big Simon came to Charlotte's funeral…"

Jean smiled to herself at the thought of her mother telling Katrina off. Whenever Katrina came up in conversation, Edith _always_ spoke highly of the woman. Jean saw it as a small victory that her mother was actually bothered by her. "Aren't you wonderin' why people aren't comin' here askin' for you?" Louise continued, arching her brow. "Edith instilled so much fear into people that they wouldn't dare come near you even if you were two feet away."

"I still don't—"

"C'mon!" Louise exclaimed, slamming one of her feet down on the linoleum tiles. "I don't wanna hear your negativity anymore. Jeremy's with Edie and the girls, Bea's doin' Jesus knows what, and Atticus is havin' lunch with one of his legislature friends—you can't be here all alone!"

Jean sighed. "You're not going to give up, are you?"

"You should know me by now."

Jean stood up, her arms still crossed. A smirk graced Louise's face. "Fine," Jean said. "We can go, just so long as you quit complainin'."

-o-o-o-

Besides in her dream, Jean hadn't visited the park she frequented in her childhood for _years_. However, it looked exactly the same as it used to. Some of the equipment was new, but it was as though everything was still in the exact same place as it had been when she was younger.

It wasn't until she and Louise planted themselves on the swings that she realized how many memories she had here. It was as if every day of every summer of her childhood was spent here with Louise, Katrina and a slew of other girls from the neighborhood. She broke her arm on the playground once, she had "married" Emmett there when she was in grade school and when she was a teenager she snuck out of her house at night to meet up with Emmett, where he kissed her for the first time. Looking back, it felt as though all of these events were from a different lifetime. She wasn't entirely sure that she missed any of it. Katrina and girls she went to boarding school with frequently talked about how they would give anything just to live one day in the past—Jean would _never_ wish for that. Her present, her life with Atticus and Jeremy, were far too valuable to her for her to even think something like that.

For a while, the two sisters were silent. The only noise that could be heard was the creaking of the swings and some laughter from children playing elsewhere. Almost abruptly, Louise stopped swinging and looked at her sister. "Why don't you talk to me?" She asked seriously.

Jean furrowed her brow, confused. Slowly, she also skidded to a near-halt on the swing. "What do you mean? I talk to you all of the time."

"I mean about _this_." Louise said, her cheeks flushing pink.

"Us swingin'?"

Louise coughed. "I mean what happened at Bea's."

Jean's face felt hot as she looked away from Louise, shrugging to herself.

"Sorry," Louise mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"Don't," Jean said quickly. "I guess I just don't talk about it."

"But you tell me everything," Louise said, a strange smile on her face. "Yet you act like this is just nothing. I want to—"

"It's fine," Jean said, forcing a smile. "You don't need—"

"I just worry," Louise admitted. "I worry about you."

"Well, you shouldn't." Jean replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "You shouldn't waste your time worryin' over me. _I_ should be the one worryin' about _you_ , you're a flight-risk—"

"You _always_ do this," Louise said as she aggressively kicked at some dirt. "You should really be a politician with the way you spin things around. Just forget I said anything."

Jean scowled at her sister. "I certainly won't forget it," she said, trying to get that same twinge of bitterness Louise sometimes had in her voice when she was really angry (she failed). "You're being cruel." She added quickly, trying to make Louise feel bad.

And she did. Louise's face flushed a deeper shade of red as she merely stared at her older sister. "Not intentionally," she said quickly, her voice sounding rough, as though she was reacting to being slapped in the face. It was then that Jean realized that for some reason Louise felt offended.

"What's wrong?" Jean asked almost impatiently. Louise rolled her eyes.

"I should be askin' you that."

"I don't know what you mean."

Louise looked like she wanted to shake Jean, but instead she just sat there on her swing focusing on digging a hole with her foot. "Never mind," Louise said, nearly exasperated.

"Just say it out front," Jean said, rolling her eyes. "You're no good at this hidden message thing."

Louise scowled, crossing her arms. "I just worry about you, I reckon."

"Why?"

"I've talked to Aunt Bea," she said, pursing her lips. "She told me that you said that this was your last time tryin' and you _really_ wanted this. I'm just worried you're gonna shut down, that's all."

Jean felt stung. She wasn't sure if it was because Aunt Bea had told somebody about the conversation they had, or because Louise was finally being honest about what was worrying her. "That's silly," she coughed. "I'm outside, aren't I?"

"I had to coax you," Louise said, a small frown forming on her face.

"I still went,"

"It's just you're more… _delicate_ ," Louise said, reminding Jean of Edith. She must not have hidden her perplexed expression well enough because Louise scoffed and exclaimed: "don't look at me like that!"

"You just called me weak," Jean replied, scowling.

"Not weak. Delicate." Louise retorted.

"What's the difference in that?"

"Weak is like Hattie…delicate is like a pretty flower in a vase that can die if you don't take care of it."

"You have such a way with words."

"I'm just goin' to stop," Louise said, putting her hands in the air. "I'm no good with emotions and this entire thing worked out better when I planned it out in my head."

"Planned what out in your head?" Jean asked, and she couldn't help but to laugh at Louise. Louise looked flustered again, and Jean couldn't help but to find enjoyment in it at this point.

"This entire thing," Louise said, still frowning. "I planned takin' you here and sittin' you down and tellin' you that I was worried about you because you don't talk about any of what's happened and you can always tell me anything even though I don't understand because though it seems like a heartless wench I do care and then you'd say _oh Louise you're so wise—_ "

"Did I _actually_ call you wise in your head?"

Louise rolled her eyes, a smirk growing on her face. "In my head, everyone thinks I'm wise."

"You're a mess."

"So are you."

Jean raised her eyebrows. "This whole thing is silly."

"You _can_ talk to me, you know." Louise said, the smirk fading from her face. "I know you better than anyone, I can be helpful."

She was right, of course. In fact, it usually was Louise who helped Jean through most of the dilemmas she faced in her life. But, she just couldn't talk to her about this. That would make it even more real.

-o-o-o-

"I heard you were out and about today," Edith said as she poured her and Jean mugs of tea. "You sister said the two of you went for a walk."

It was past dark now. Dinner had been eaten and almost everyone had gone up to bed, with the exception of Jean and her mother.

"Libby and Clara are lookin' real good," Jean said, giving her mother a small smile. "They seem much happier than the last time I saw them."

"They're faring well." Edith replied shortly as she sat down at Bea's kitchen table with Jean. "I would be much more comfortable if I could say the same about _you_."

At that moment, Jean felt as though she had been hit with a double whammy. First, Louise was attempting to give her some inspirational life advice (which Jean couldn't help but to find funny), and now her mother was giving her opinions. More and more, Jean was wising she had just gone home to Maycomb. "I'm fine," she replied quickly as she took a sip of her tea and burnt her tongue.

"Louise is well under the impression that she knows you better than anyone else," Edith said and Jean could've sworn she saw her mother roll her eyes. "But she fails to realize that _I_ gave birth to you. I know you and your sisters better than anyone and I can firmly assert that all three of you are goin' to hell in a handbasket—especially you."

Jean furrowed her brow and sighed. "I assure you that there is some flaw in your—"

"They say you're only as happy as your saddest child," Edith said. "I _know_ what you're feeling. Even when you're not here, I _feel_ what you're feeling."

But she didn't. How could she? In her youth, Edith had four daughters all relatively close in age. She didn't understand, she couldn't understand.

"I can tell by the way you're lookin' at me that you don't think I understand." Edith said as she blew on her tea to cool it. Was her mother a mind reader or something? Would Jean be able to be so in sync with Jeremy when he was older? "Eugenia, did you ever wonder why there's five years between you and Charlotte?"

Jean shrugged. "Why would I think about that?"

"I lost two babies between you and Charlotte, and another one between Louise and Harriet." Edith said, her voice sounded grim though the stern expression in her face didn't falter. "I _know_ what you're feeling. Why, Charlotte also had a miscarriage between Simon and Clara. You are not an isolated case."

Jean wasn't sure it was possible to feel so cold yet so warm at the same time. She stared at her mother, who went about her business and drank her tea as if she hadn't said anything. She found herself wishing Charlotte was alive so that she could have her to talk about it, and then she found herself regretting not taking the time to talk to Charlotte more while she was alive.

Frowning, Jean's eyes didn't move from her mother. "I didn't know that."

"You're more like me than you think, Jean." Edith said, a small smile forming on her face. "I did exactly what you did, I went about my business and didn't talk to anyone. But I found that to be incredibly lonely. Charlotte did it too, but I don't think she ever recovered from it. For the sake of your son, I think you should reconsider how you approach this."

"You make this sound very logical." Jean replied, smirking. Her mother had always been very methodological in her approach to _everything_.

Edith gave her daughter a look. "If you're trying to be funny, it isn't working." She responded. "I'm just telling you that perhaps you shouldn't shut yourself in all of the time."

"I don't shut myself—"

"Louise said otherwise. I've _noticed_ otherwise."

Again, Jean furrowed her brow. It wasn't like Louise to tell Edith things about her sisters. "She's worried about you," Edith added quickly. "She came to me out of worry."

"Well, she shouldn't."

"We all worry about you." Edith said. "Think of your poor husband."

Jean sat up. "What do you mean my _poor_ husband?"

"I'm just saying he worries about you, sweet." Edith said, her stern expression becoming softer. "You need to stop shutting yourself in a box and let us help you. We love you."

Jean felt the ever-familiar sensation of tears burning the back of her eyes. Quickly she wiped at them, hoping her mother wouldn't notice. Finishing her tea, Edith gave her daughter a small smile. She rose, and as she crossed the room to the doorway, she placed her hand on Jean's shoulder as she kissed her temple. "Sweet, you're not alone."

"Wait," Jean said softly, turning to look at her mother's back in the doorway. Slowly, Edith turned around.

"Yes?"

"What did you mean earlier, when you said for the sake of Jerem—"

"You saw Charlotte's relationship with her girls," Edith said, folding her arms. "We don't want that happening again. There's a fine line between being delicate and being weak—"

Jean sniffed. "I swear you and Louise are the same person."

Edith gave her another small smile. "Why else would we butt heads so much? Goodnight."

"Night." Jean replied softly.

Once her mother was gone, Jean dumped her now-cold tea in the sink and rinsed out the two mugs. Quietly, she made her way upstairs to the guestroom. Jeremy was now sleeping in a playpen in the middle of the room, and the sound of his soft snoring made her smile as she slowly made her way into bed, careful not to wake Atticus.

As she finally began to ease into the plush mattress, she felt her husband stir. "You've been gone for a while," he muttered, pulling her closer to him.

"Do you despise me yet?" She asked, kissing his forehead.

"What?" He asked, his voice sounding more alert.

"I've noticed that husbands tend to grow to despise their wives over a period of time, especially if they're as difficult as I am." She whispered, chuckling to herself.

"Well luckily for you, I don't find you difficult. I see every day with you as an adventure."


	11. Chapter 11

Fall was coming, and Jean found herself feeling a renewed sense of strength with the changing of the seasons. She put the spring and summer behind her, which she found to be ironic considering that they were the seasons most associated with the beginning of life, and put her faith in autumn. As the leaves changed color and fell from the trees, she felt herself beginning to repair. As the air got cooler and the days got shorter, she felt a sort of restoration within herself that was previously unfamiliar. She was confident, she was secure.

Slowly, she immersed herself in her usual tasks. She helped Cal with the cleaning and the cooking and every other menial task, she baked teacakes on Sundays for after the church service and always appeared in public with an unwavering smile. She had lunch nearly three times a week with not only the ladies in her neighborhood, but the ones who lived further in town, and always was prim and proper and happy. She cheerfully brought Jeremy into town to see his father and enjoyed lunch with her husband outside in center of town. She found herself embracing sarcasm and teasing her husband again. She talked to Louise once a week, and while she still didn't tell her _everything_ , she found it easier to disclose more to her sister. She made a better effort at communicating with her mother. Things were finally becoming normal. Truly normal.

But then the worst almost happened.

In July when they returned home from Montgomery, Atticus was assigned a case. It wasn't a particularly daunting one in terms of work load and preparation that needed to be done, but it was stressful for Atticus because he had known the man he was defending for years and it was obvious that he was guilty. The best Atticus would be able to do was to get a lighter sentence for the man, who had been gradually stealing a large amount of money and supplies from his employer and was ultimately caught. The man in question was not particularly affluent, and he and his family would most likely face many difficulties throughout the duration and aftermath of the trial.

Atticus never got many cases he knew he was going to lose. Usually, his skill combined with the type of casework he took on resulted in a mildly successful career. But, Jean's husband was a gentleman and a genuine friend to everyone in town. So, whenever somebody got into a particularly sticky situation, they always went to Atticus because they knew he could successfully get them a lighter (though still serious) sentence. Atticus never admitted this to anyone, but he suffered under immense pressure from these cases. Jean _knew_ her husband better than anyone and she knew he was nervous about what might happen if he was unsuccessful in his attempts to help these people. Jean respected the high value Atticus had towards his relationships, but she _hated_ seeing him under such strain, especially since he was too stubborn to admit that he was feeling worn out.

In the month and a half leading up to the trial, Jean noticed that Atticus' ulcers were bothering him more. He was so uncomfortable he could barely sleep, eat or play with Jeremy. Despite the fact that he was constantly taking soda, it hadn't seemed to be working, but when Jean suggested a doctor he flatly refused. He told her he had been dealing with this for nearly half of his life and going to a doctor was just a waste. Obligingly, she stopped pestering about the doctor and instead made sure he had plenty of soda and that he wasn't eating anything that might agitate him.

Come September, Jean would regret not pestering him more about seeing a doctor.

The trial was to be quick, nearly painless. The evidence was clear-cut and obvious and Atticus merely needed to convince the jury and the judge to have some compassion when coming up with their verdict. According to those at the courthouse, Atticus had seemed completely fine and normal. He may have seemed a little stiff, a little more stern than usual, but it wasn't anything to be wary about. However, once the jury had gone to their chambers to discuss the case, Atticus attempted to stand up but found he was too lightheaded to do so, and coughed up blood in his briefcase in an attempt to hide it from any bystanders so that the case could at least finish before he sought help. He would've been successful if it weren't for the fact that just as the jury was coming in to give their verdict, he vomited blood again.

After the fact, Doctor Reynolds informed Jean that it was a mixture of exhaustion and stress that had caused his ulcers to begin bleeding, and the fact that Atticus continued to work strenuous hours made it worse. That was why he was constantly suffering from heartburn and discomfort, and that was why he had grown so weak and vomited blood during the case.

Jean had ultimately come to think the worse when she received the call from Doctor Reynolds, telling her what had happened. It was as though she was back to that awful vulnerable state she had been in during the summer, and nearly began to panic. But when the doctor told her Atticus was well enough to come home just as long as he spent the next few weeks resting, Jean was finally able to breathe again. He would be coming home to her, just as he always did and she would take care of him for a change.

When Doctor Reynolds told her his ulcers were bleeding due to stress, a part of her couldn't help but to feel guilty. She couldn't deny that she had probably put him through a fair amount of hell for the past couple of months, and it was probably all catching up to him. But, she couldn't let her shame eat away at her—she needed to maintain her sense of normalcy for him, so that he would get better and things would truly be fine.

When Jean said that she would drive herself and pick Atticus up, Doctor Reynolds had declined and offered to do it himself. It wasn't until the end of her conversation with him that he admitted that he had given Atticus some medication to help him with his pain and that her husband wasn't quite himself as a result of it. Jean couldn't help but to be a little disdainful because of that. If there was anything her husband hated, it was not being in control of his senses and himself, and things such as alcohol and certain medications made him feel very wary.

However, she couldn't help but to find it slightly amusing when he arrived home. With the assistance of Doctor Reynolds, Atticus slowly made his way through the front door and looked as though he had just woken up from a long sleep and had found himself lost. His outwardly appearance was as starchy and dignified as it usually was, but his eyes were like nothing she had ever seen before. They were glazed from the medication, and they were scanning his surroundings slowly and deliberately.

"Eugenia," he said, nearly laughing as she came across them in the living room. Cal, who had opened the door for the two of them stood watching, an amused Jeremy holding onto her legs.

"At'cus!" Jeremy greeted, a cheesy grin on his face. Quickly, Atticus went towards his son and attempted to lift him before Doctor Reynolds stopped him.

"You shouldn't do that for at least a week, Mr. Finch." He explained. An unfamiliar expression came across Atticus' face, and Jean could only deduce that her husband was confused.

"Sweet, you need to come to bed." Jean said as she approached him. "Come with me."

"It's the middle of the day," he stated matter-of-factly, nodding his head. Jeremy, who wanted his father's attention, quickly left Cal and instead wrapped his arms around Atticus' leg. "I would like to lift my son." He told her, as though asking for her permission would change anything.

She scrunched her nose at him before bending to pick up Jeremy, bringing him closer to Atticus. "Look, he's right here." Jean said, resting Jeremy on her hip. "But you need to go to bed, you're ill."

Atticus shook his head. "I'm fine," he insisted. "I took some medicine and I'm fine…just a little…foggy."

Jean had to try not to laugh at him as Doctor Reynolds shook his head. "Let your wife put you to bed," he said firmly, before handing Jean a bottle of pills. "These should help him with the discomfort, and make sure he stays in bed for at least two weeks unless he wants to vomit blood in his briefcase again. Don't hesitate to call me anytime you need, I'll come within the next few days to check up on him."

"Thank you." Jean replied, examining the bottle in her hand. Once the doctor left, she handed Jeremy to Cal and gave Atticus a pseudo-stern look. "C'mon, Mr. Finch," she said teasingly. "Let's get you to bed."

He laughed at her as she attempted to coax him towards their bedroom. "You sound like a schoolteacher." He told her, the amused smile not fading from his face.

"Come on," she said, rolling her eyes. As he finally began to walk towards the hallway, he took his glasses off and thrusted them towards her. "Honey, what in the hell are you doin'?"

"Put them on," he said, still chuckling. "Then you'll really look like a school teacher."

She attempted to hand him the glasses back, but he stopped moving completely. "Sweet, you're nearly blind. I don't want you hittin' your head on somethin' and makin' everything even worse."

"I won't move until you do it," he smirked, making her scowl.

"Atticus Finch, you are—"he cleared his throat, indicating once again that he wanted her to put the glasses on. Sighing, she complied, and immediately found her eyes straining to adjust to the lenses. "Happy?" She added testily, crossing her arms. It only made him laugh more.

"What were you sayin'?" He asked.

"Atticus Finch," she said slowly, her arms still crossed. "You have gone insane. You need to get into bed this—"

Before she could finish, he kissed her. When he moved away, she quickly took his glasses off and handed them to him. Even when he put them on, he still looked disoriented. "I'm a little worried by the fact that you seem to enjoy me pretendin' to be a school teacher." She said as she opened the bedroom door and pointed towards the bed. Instead, he stood there. "Atticus—"

"I can't get in bed now," he told her.

"I'll shut the blinds, it'll be dark as night I promise."

"I'm still in my clothes."

"I'll get you your pajamas, sweet."

"But it's daytime."

"You need to rest."

"What's the point of givin' me medicine if I can't go on with my day?"

"You just need to rest, honey."

"I don't like restin'."

"You look awfully tired." She told him as she handed him his pajamas. Despite the fact that he was delusional from whatever Doctor Reynolds gave him, he was still very deliberate in making sure his clothes and shoes were put away in an orderly manner. Finally, after what seemed to be hours, he eased himself into the bed.

"I don't like the medicine." He told her seriously as she sat down in the empty space next to him.

"I know, sweet." She said sympathetically, smoothing his hair down. Slowly, he rested his head in her lap.

"I wish you were there to tell him…tell him I don't like…" His tiredness had gotten the better of him, and he fell asleep with his head in her lap and holding onto one of her hands.

-o-o-o-

The biggest mistake Jean made after Atticus' incident was to call Alexandra. Immediately after hearing that her brother had taken ill, Alexandra insisted that she come and stay with them while Atticus recovered. Jean attempted to tell her that she didn't need the help, that she'd be just fine looking after everything herself, but the woman was relentless. Not even two days after Atticus was told to rest, Alexandra arrived in Maycomb.

Jean didn't hate her sister-in-law, but sometimes she found it awfully hard to like her. She was hard-headed and adamant that things be done her way, and always seemed to excel at making Jean feel like a guest in her own home. Jean loved that Atticus was so close to his sister, but often felt as though she was a burden in Alexandra's eyes. She tried to get Alexandra to like her, but it just seemed as though she'd never be successful.

What made it worse was that Alexandra hardly allowed Jean to even see Atticus, despite the fact that they were under the same roof. She insisted that his brother needed to rest and Jean would serve as a distraction to him and would cause him to strain himself. Jean couldn't lie, that had hurt her feelings. She wasn't sure if Alexandra was implying that Jean had already been so troublesome for Atticus that her mere presence would cause him stress or what, but Jean knew that underneath the falsely cheery voice Alexandra was jabbing at her. When Alexandra insisted that Jean sleep in the guestroom rather than with Atticus so that he would have the space he needed, Jean wondered _why_ her sister-in-law was so determined to keep Jean away from her husband.

Therefore, the only thing Jean could really do was continue on as normal. Cal still came everyday (though Alexandra had attempted to relieve her of her services, making Jean so angry she had no choice but to excuse herself to scream into a pillow), and Jean found herself occupied by daily routine and playing with Jeremy. Despite the fact that Alexandra's looming presence was overwhelming, Jean began to feel somewhat at ease.

However, when a week passed and it was clear that Alexandra would _not_ be leaving, Jean was a little more on edge. While Alexandra was able to have some control over her brother, the one thing she couldn't do was convince him to take the pain medication Doctor Reynolds left for him. Atticus didn't like how it made him feel, and since Doctor Reynolds apprehensively informed them that as long as he rested and took a more regimented amount of soda he should be fine, Atticus downright refused to take it. Jean _knew_ he was in pain though, and the fact that Alexandra essentially barred Jean from seeing him was enough to break her heart. Atticus needed _her_ , not Alexandra.

When the phone rang one Tuesday morning, Jean was no good at hiding her frustration. "Finch residence," she had said tartly to the operator, who informed her she had an incoming call from Mobile. She knew it was Caroline who called, and for some reason the thought of Atticus' youngest sister wasn't enough to ease her mood. She _loved_ Caroline. She was sweet, funny, and brutally honest and frankly Jean wished it was Caroline who had come instead of Alexandra. However, all Jean could think about was Alexandra and how angry she was at her.

"Hello?" Jean said once the operator switched over the lines.

"Hey, sweet!" Caroline said cheerfully. "How's everythin' goin' over there?"

"Perfectly fine," Jean responded, trying to sound pleasant though she only really sounded strained.

"How's my brother doin'?" Caroline asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"He's alright, I suppose." Jean said honestly. "He doesn't want to take the pain medication so he's quite uncomfortable and he's havin' a hard time keepin' still, but the doctor says he'll be just fine."

"That's good to hear. I know Zandra's there," Caroline said and Jean could imagine the bright smirk on Caroline's face. "I can't imagine _that_ bein' fine."

"It's just _lovely_."

Caroline chuckled. "I'm surprised she hasn't locked you in a closet yet so that she could take over your household and raise your son into being a perfect gentleman."

"She might as well have," Jean said, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I've been banished to the guestroom, I hardly get to see Atticus."

Caroline clicked her tongue. "I will be honest with you, she is a wench." Caroline said seriously, though she still sounded quite joyful. "I think you need to just show her whose boss, it's your house after all."

"She already doesn't like me, I'm not sure how that will go over." Jean said quietly.

"She likes you plenty…in her own way." Caroline snickered. "Just do something to show her you won't be lettin' her take advantage of you anymore. I think you've got enough nerve for that, and if I don't hear from you in two days I'll know she locked you in a closet and I'll come to your rescue."

Jean chuckled. "You're awfully kind."

"There can only be one cruel Finch sister, and I must be honest I'm glad it ain't me." Caroline laughed. "Listen, honey, I'll check in on y'all in a couple of days but if you need anything just call me. That includes if you need me to get rid of Alexandra for you… I've been plotting that for quite some time now."

Jean laughed. "Well, isn't that a relief to hear? It was good hearin' from you."

Gently, she hung up the receiver and decided that she would take Caroline's advice and show Alexandra who was boss, though she was ultimately quite nervous about it. Calmly, she went into the kitchen and prepared a tray of tea and toast to bring to Atticus for his lunch. Balancing it on one arm, she used her free hand to grab Jeremy's hand and directed him towards her bedroom.

Of course, she ran into Alexandra just as she was opening the door. "I'll bring that to him," Alexandra said quickly, attempting to take the tray from her. Jean, however, didn't let her.

"It's just fine," Jean said, keeping a fake smile on her face. "I'm quite able to bring this to him."

"I don't want him havin' too much commotion in there," Alexandra whispered. "We don't want him to get worse."

Jean smirked. "We're not commotion, we're his family." She said firmly, keeping her voice down in case Atticus could hear her. "I think it's right time for him to spend some time with his son."

Alexandra opened her mouth in protest, but before she could say anything, Atticus groggily called out: "Zandra, just let her come in." Jean couldn't help but to smile triumphantly as Alexandra's expression turned to one of shock.

"Brother, I'm just—"

"You go relax, Zandra." Atticus said as Jean opened the door so that they could see him. "You're too tightly wound, we don't want you endin' up like this."

Immediately when he saw his father, Jeremy grinned and ran towards the bed. Though he initially struggled to lift himself into the space next to his father, he was ultimately successful and was soon snuggling against his father and laughing. Despite the fact that Jean knew that Atticus would rather be anywhere than confined to his bed, she saw a smile grow on his face once he saw his son, making her smile grow.

"I've got this," Jean winked at Alexandra, before entering the room and promptly closing the door behind her.

"I can hardly recognize you," Atticus teased as Jean placed the tray on the bed before setting herself at the foot of it. "You look like a stranger."

"For some reason I thought you were going to say schoolteacher." She teased back as she crossed her arms and smirked at him.

"You're never going to forget that, are you?"

"Not until the day I die." She laughed. "How are you feelin'?"

"Much better, now that you're here. I was beginning to think Alexandra drove you away." He responded.

"Caroline thought she locked me in a closet."

"I wouldn't be surprised, Zandra often did that to Caroline when they were children." Atticus informed her. "She's been terrified of enclosed spaces ever since."

Jean couldn't help but to laugh. "For some reason, I'm not surprised by that at all."

"You can tell her to leave, if you want." Atticus informed her softly. "If she's botherin' you. I know I'd be just fine without her."

"She's not a bother," Jean lied, smiling at Atticus as she leaned to kiss his cheek. "Your family's always welcome here."

Atticus chuckled again. "I suppose the muffled screaming I heard a couple of nights ago was merely a ghost, then?"

Shocked, Jean sat up as her face turned red. "Um," she started embarrassedly.

"Sweet, I've known Zandra her entire life," he told her, smiling as he took her hand. "She's got good intentions, but is awfully irritating." Jean felt herself easing up again.

"I'll be as polite as possible when I tell her we are just fine without her," Jean winked as she reached over to tickle Jeremy, causing him to roll about the mattress with laughter.

"Just fine," Jeremy mimicked, still out of breath from laughing. Jean scrunched her nose at him and smoothed down his hair.

"Plus, with her gone I'll finally be able to see my wife again." Atticus added, wincing as he attempted to sit up a little more.

"I'm not sure," Jean said matter-of-factly as she assisted him. "You seem quite damaged right now."

"You're the devil, Mrs. Finch."


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I initially started this chapter in October, but in between me starting this and actually posting it I started at a full-time job, had to start at square one of my thesis, and had other obligations to attend to. As a result, I completely forgot what this chapter was supposed to be about, and it sort of became a filler chapter while I attempt to get my act together (so I'm afraid it's rather lame!). When I first began this, I was very excited and had a clear path for where I wanted this to go. However, as you can tell from this chapter alone, I have obviously been riding the hot mess express. I've had a rough game plan for each chapter (I was estimating this being around twenty in all), but I may be doing some restructuring, which is why I currently have this being at a hiatus. Despite the fact that my winter break has basically started, the progression for the rest of this story will probably be slow (which makes me sad because I have some more ideas for multi-chapter fics, but I don't want to start them until this is complete). Also—in Sailing Ships I briefly alluded to the situation introduced in this chapter, but had it happening years before this. Because I _really_ wanted to write this, I decided to let that discrepancy exist between the two stories.

-o-o-o-

"I'm not a gamblin' man, but I think I'm actually willin' to put money down on Jack and Louise causing havoc at Christmas this year." Atticus said jokingly over breakfast one morning in December. There was only two weeks left until Christmas, and both the Finch and the Graham families decided that it would be best to celebrate together. Usually Jean and Atticus would spend Christmas Eve at home, go to Alexandra's on Christmas Day, and then spend a week in Montgomery. However, due to the fact that Atticus was going to have to go back to work the day after Christmas, Jean's family decided that they would come to Maycomb in order to get the same amount of time with them. Which meant that the Finch's and Graham's would all be under one roof for the most stressful holiday of the year.

"You're only sayin' that because the odds are stacked perfectly in your favor." Jean replied matter-of-factly as she attempted to get Jeremy to sit still in his chair. At two years old, Jeremy now refused to eat unless he was allowed to sit in a regular chair like his parents. Jean secretly couldn't wait to see the grief Alexandra would go through over this come Christmas.

"I wonder what they'll do this time," Atticus said, sounding highly amused as he glanced at the morning paper.

"I'm not sure anything can top Louise punchin' him at our wedding reception, sweet." Jean responded as she smiled to herself. It had been a highly amusing occasion.

"Although the time the two of them attempted to spike your mother's punch bowl the last time we all tried to have Christmas together comes in a very close second." Atticus pointed out, and Jean could detect him smirking from behind his paper.

"I can only imagine what they'll do this year," Jean responded as she gave up and hoisted Jeremy on her knee. He was slightly over two years old, but to Jean he was so big. "If my mother and your sister are successful, the two of them won't even see each other that night."

"Well, here's to hoping that doesn't happen." Atticus responded seriously. "I think that might be one of the most enjoyable things of the holiday."

Jean merely smiled at him as she smoothed down Jeremy's light curls. Part of her couldn't help but to feel badly for Atticus. It had been nearly two months since his ulcers began bleeding, and although he only spent two (quick) weeks home resting, it set him back terribly at the office. It didn't help him any that Doctor Reynolds prohibited Atticus from working late nights, saying that he would overexert himself and make his ulcers worse if he continued to work himself too hard. So, Atticus still remained behind on his tasks come December.

Jean helped him as much as she could through accompanying him to the office and assisting him with some of the more mundane daily tasks that always needed to be done. She filed paperwork from previous cases, answered his phone, and even assisted his clients if it meant that Atticus could get more work done in the privacy of his office. As far as Jean could tell it alleviated some of his stress, but she knew that he still felt as though there was more he could be doing. Jean gave him as much encouragement as she could, letting him know that he was doing extraordinarily well given the pressures he was facing, but Atticus Finch set extremely high standards for himself and always had it in the back of his mind that he could do more.

"It'll be nice for you to have some time off," Jean said as she observed Jeremy playing with a napkin. It took her a few moments to realize that he was actually mimicking the way Atticus was reading the paper. "You surely deserve it, sweet."

"I suppose so," he responded, not looking away from his paper. "I'm quite sorry you won't be able to go to Montgomery this year."

"Oh, hush. You know I'm not missin' much there, we go plenty." She responded truthfully. In all honesty, she found herself slightly relieved that they wouldn't be going this year.

"I know, but it's tradition." If there was one thing Atticus Finch thrived on, it was consistency. Jean couldn't help but to think that his world was slightly turned upside down from the events of this past year.

"Well, we've seen a lot of change so I reckon it's natural for our traditions to change." She responded. She couldn't help but to laugh when Jeremy rested his elbow on the table in the same exact fashion as his father, causing Atticus to look up. "It seems as if you've got a little clone," she added, nodding towards Jeremy. Atticus looked at the boy and chuckled to himself.

"Come here," Atticus said to Jeremy, causing him to quickly slide off of his mother's lap and come hurdling towards his father. Atticus lifted Jeremy onto his lap and continued to read the paper as Jeremy ran his finger across the words, pretending to read what was in front of him.

"You seem apprehensive, Mr. Finch." Jean stated teasingly.

"I'm perfectly normal." He responded.

"I recall you tellin' me that a few months ago and then you wound up in bed for two weeks with bleedin' ulcers." Jean retorted, crossing her arms. Slowly, Atticus looked up from his paper.

"You'll hold that against me for as long as I live, won't you?"

Jean smirked at him. "What's the matter?" She asked, crossing her arms.

"Your coffee's gettin' cold."

"You're always tellin' me not to drink coffee, sweet," she winked, taking a sip of the tepid liquid. "You'd prefer it if it were spoiled. Is there somethin' botherin' you?"

"Nope," he replied, looking back at his paper.

"Nope," Jeremy mimicked, also looking at the paper. Jean noticed a hint of a smile on Atticus' face.

"I don't believe you," she responded, observing him and Jeremy.

"I think that may be a personal problem," he teased.

"Are you worried about something?" She asked, resting her elbows on the table.

"I assure you I'm not."

"Are you certain?"

"I'm quite in tune with my own feelings."

"Are you agitated by something?"

"I'm feeling quite content."

"Are you not lookin' forward to Christmas?"

"Mama, stop." Jeremy said seriously, looking up from the paper. His hazel eyes, his father's eyes, shone at her as a mischievous smile graced his face. Jean couldn't help but to laugh at him.

"I agree with him," Atticus smirked, patting Jeremy's head.

"You didn't answer my question,"

"There's nothin' you should worry about." He smiled. "I've got everything handled."

Jean crossed her arms. "Got everything handled?" She asked, scowling ever so slightly. "What's that mean?"

Atticus quickly opened his mouth, then shut it, causing Jean to grow more concerned. This wasn't like him, her husband always told her everything without being so darn cryptic about it. Was he sick? Was something going wrong with one of his cases? "Atticus," she began, watching as he turned his attention to carefully folding his newspaper, shrugging as he did so.

"I reckon I don't like change much," he chuckled to himself, finally bringing his attention back to her. Despite the fact that he was smiling at her, she couldn't bring herself to smile back. "You shouldn't mind me, I'm just an old-fashioned old man, I guess." He added, smirking at her.

"Sweet, if this is about Christmas, we have more traditions that just goin' to Montgomery—"

"If I tell you a secret, will you promise not to tell anyone?" He interjected, finally causing her to smile at him.

"Why, you sound like a youngin'," she teased. "That's exactly what I asked Emmett before I fooled him into kissin' me for the first time when I was twelve." She added, smirking as a scowl formed on his face.

"It escapes me how funny you are, sometimes." He replied, shaking his head.

"Just tell me," she smirked, quickly downing the rest of her cold coffee despite the fact that it now tasted horrid. Atticus smirked as she grimaced, a silent "I told you so" that caused Jean to roll her eyes at him.

"My sister called me yesterday," he began as he watched Jeremy quickly destroy the newspaper in what seemed to be three swift movements. The boy erupted into a fit of giggles as some pages of the paper fell to the floor, causing both of his parents to smile.

"Alexandra?"

"No, Caroline."

"Alright," Jean said, nodding. Caroline was known to call every once in a while to check in on them, making Jean wonder why this call had Atticus feeling strangely.

"She needs some help," Atticus explained. "She wants to get a divorce."

Jean wasn't sure what she had expected Atticus to say, but it certainly wasn't that. When Jean first met her sister-in-law, she and Joe seemed to be happily married for what seemed to be an eternity. She certainly never thought that a day would come when the two of them wouldn't be together. Atticus had a soft spot for his youngest sister, so she could hardly be surprised that he was so apprehensive about it. Atticus had once mentioned to Jean that when his mother died, his father had fallen into a deep depression of sorts, and alienated himself from his children as they grew up. Consequentially, Atticus had taken on a sort of a fatherly role for his siblings, something that Caroline especially seemed to cherish.

"That's…a shock," Jean said, furrowing her brow. "I wasn't expectin' that."

"I think he did somethin' to her," he said quickly as he nervously bounced Jeremy on his knee. "Why else would she want this? He'd have to have done something to her."

"Did she say?" Jean asked, her mind suddenly drifting to Big Simon. She always had such a high regard for Joe and his marriage to Caroline, and couldn't help but to wonder if Atticus' suspicions were true.

"No," he replied solemnly. "She called me and said she wanted a divorce and needed my help."

"Your help with what, sweet?"

The look on Atticus' face hardened. "She wants me to file the divorce for her."

"Is that why you're apprehensive?" 

"What should I do?" He asked, and though his voice was still as firm and strong as it usually was, she could detect a hint of anxiety in her husband's eyes. "The only reason Joe agreed to come to the Landing for Christmas is so that I can file the papers the very next day."

Unlike more conventional marriages, it wasn't rare for Atticus to seek his wife's help and advice. He trusted her with every aspect of his life, whether it be a case he was working on or an issue with the family. He was consistently honest with her, and seemed to truly appreciate what she had to say. Jean knew that if left to his own devices, he'd be certainly fine making his own informed decisions, but she couldn't help but to know that she was quite valuable to him. _He_ let her know that.

"Baby, you _help_ her." She said, trying to see if anything in his expression changed. "Pretend it's a couple from town, and do what you usually do in these situations. Mediate, and if you aren't able to salvage their marriage, you do what they've asked you to do."

"But it's Caroline," he said.

"That's why it's important you help her, sweet." She replied, giving him a small smile. "By doing this, you're alleviating any discomfort she has in her life right now."

"What if he's done something awful to her?"

Jean grasped his free hand and squeezed it. "You've heard stories of many people doing awful things, and you've always been good at being professional about everything. You listen to what they have to say and you do your job as a lawyer first and foremost." She told him.

"What if I lose my temper?" He asked seriously.

She couldn't help but to laugh, and she found that it was very difficult for him to hide the look of shock on his face, especially as Jeremy broke his silence and laughed alongside his mama. "Oh, forgive me, sweet." She said, her smile growing. "But are we talkin' about the same Atticus Finch here? You're by and far the most benevolent man I know. I'm one hundred percent sure you'll find a way to control your wild self." She added with a wink.

"I suppose you're right," he told her, the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried not to smile at her (according to him, smiling as she teased him was close to admitting defeat). Triumphantly, she smiled back at him. "It is my obligation as both a brother and a lawyer to help Caroline."

"Once you get it over with I can assure you that many people will feel much better, including yourself." She promised, reaching across the table and collecting Jeremy in her arms again. "And if Joe has done something terrible, I'm sure Louise would _love_ to assist me in throwin' eggs at that beloved car of his." At the sound of Louise's name, Jeremy began to clap his hands against the table.

Atticus smirked. "Zandra's bound to be _thrilled_." He said.

"Aunty!" Jeremy screeched, scowling. Jean couldn't help but to think that she was raising her son right.

Jean rolled her eyes. "You can't please everybody," she simply replied. "Especially her."

Atticus rose from the table and kissed Jean's temple. "As helpful as you are, Mrs. Finch," he said jokingly. "You're still quite the rascal."


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I can't even lie, this was _very_ fun to write. Also, I've seen a few comments about Scout, and I thought I should say that she'll be coming when she's supposed to! :) I'm also not quite sure how quick my other updates will be, but hopefully I'll get the ball rolling!

-o-o-o-

Despite the fact that Caroline and Joe's impending divorce loomed over Atticus in the days leading up to Christmas, Jean did her very best to keep his mind off of it until it was absolutely necessary. Christmas had always been the holiday that she had enjoyed most, and she was certainly determined to spread her Christmas cheer to Atticus.

She couldn't lie, she was actually excited about the fact that both hers and Atticus' families would be spending the holiday together. Ultimately, it would mean less stress on Atticus since he didn't have to frantically travel all over Alabama, and she was still going to be able to spend time with her family. In her eyes, everyone was going to win. She constantly assured Atticus that things would not only go smoothly between Caroline and Joe on Christmas day, but that he would also have an amusing night due to the presence of both families. She seemed to have been successful, because as the days leading up to Christmas dwindled, her husband actually seemed to be excited.

Of course, neither of them had been prepared for the disaster that would happen.

She should've known that the evening was going to go to hell once Jack came to Maycomb three days before Christmas. In anticipation of his arrival, Jean and Atticus had also invited Louise to stay with them. The figured that if they were able to cause mischief _before_ Christmas, they would cause less damage on the actual holiday.

Yet, Louise declined the invitation.

Jean couldn't help but to be surprised. Any other time Jean invited her sister over, Louise almost immediately jumped on the next train to get to Maycomb. Jean surely thought that Louise would be excited to not only be able to spend time with her and Jeremy, but with Jack as well. When she and Atticus picked Jack up at the train station the morning he arrived, she couldn't help but to bring it up to him.

Even more surprisingly, Jack shrugged it off. "Oh, I knew she wasn't gonna come early." He said, smirking. "We were discussin' her Christmas present for you just a few days ago. I placed bets on you bein' _very surprised_."

Shocked, both she and Atticus gave Jack quizzical glances. "Really?" Atticus asked.

"Ha, not so much you," he chuckled as he pointed at Jean. " _Her_."

"Did she tell you what it was?" Jean asked quickly.

"Oh, yes."

"Well, what is it?"

"Promised her I wouldn't ruin the surprise."

"Well, it ain't fair that you brought it up and won't tell me." Jean replied, crossing her arms before quickly glancing at Atticus. "Tell him, sweet."

"I'm choosin' not to get involved in this." He replied, causing Jack to laugh.

"Well, tell me." She glowered.

"Shoot, when you and your sister are agitated, you sure are scary." He teased.

"I taught her how to punch, you know." Jean winked. "If you don't tell me, I'll punch you."

Jack raised his hands in the air. "I've grown immune to that, sweet," he replied. "Your sister's punched me so many times I've come to actually enjoy the experience. Plus, what kind of man would I be if I betrayed my only friend's trust?"

Jean rolled her eyes. "I'm your sister-in-law, you _have_ to tell me." She said, he simply smirked back at her.

"Jeannie—"

"Don't call me that, John."

"Alright, Eugenia."

As she continued to scowl, she could see a slight smile forming on Atticus' face as he continued to look at the road. Hastily, she shook her head. "You're trickin' me." She declared. "You're simply sayin' this stuff to get me riled up. Well guess what? It isn't workin' anymore. I'm _excited_ for Louise's gift."

Jack batted his eyes at her in a joking manner. "You're exactly right, Jean." He responded coolly, despite the fact that Jean would soon find out that he was indeed lying to her.

-o-o-o-

Two days after Jack arrived to Maycomb, so did Edie, Harriet, Jean's two nieces as well as her Aunt Bea. While Jean had Clara and Libby sleeping in Jeremy's nursery during the visit, she couldn't help but the feel thankful that the rest of them were squeezing into Maudie's house. Naturally, of course, Jean made room for Louise to stay with her and Atticus.

But, she hadn't arrived with the rest of her family, further surprising Jean.

"Where is she?" Was the first thing Jean asked when her family greeted her at her house for lunch, causing Hattie to roll her eyes.

"She's with Phillip," Edie replied slowly as she brought Jean in for a stiff hug.

"Who?"

"Her friend, honey, he's her friend." Edie said quickly.

"Well, why is she with him?"

"She went up to Boston to retrieve him, he's coming to Christmas. They'll be here tomorrow by the latest." Jean's mother replied, and Jean was seriously beginning to think that she was in some sort of alternate universe.

"Who is he? Why is he comin'?" Jean asked, scowling at her mother.

"Don't worry about it," was Edie's response. "You're makin' somethin' out of nothin'."

Despite the fact that Jean dropped the subject, it was still very present in her mind. Why, Louise loved Christmas just as much as Jean did, and always talked about how she looked forward for the two of them to be together during the holiday and now it seemed as though her sister had become some sort of phantom.

"Don't sulk, Eugenia," Edie said after a few moments. "It doesn't look well on you."

Before Jean could respond, Aunt Bea sat up and looked around. "It's awfully quiet, where are the children?" She asked.

"They're napping in the nursery." Jean replied matter-of-factly.

"Speaking of children," Hattie said, causing Edie's eyes to widen. "Jean, are you still tryin'—"Quickly, Hattie jumped and stopped speaking, and Jean suspected that her mother had something to do with that. In an effort to show how completely _fine_ she was, she remained collected.

"We are perfectly content with it just being the three of us," she responded, though part of her knew she was lying. After what happened in Montgomery, Jean didn't approach the subject of having more children again. She knew that she and Atticus had agreed upon their condition of just trying that one last time, but in her heart she knew she couldn't give up _that_ quickly. She knew it was selfish of her to think this way, to continue to want a baby so badly despite the fact that she already had a perfectly healthy child and that it unhinged Atticus to no end when he thought about what could happen to his wife, but she simply couldn't convince herself to just give up. "We have quite a good life," she added truthfully, perhaps as an attempt to convince herself that one child was enough for her.

"That's probably for the best." Edie replied, still glaring at Hattie. "Though, are things alright between you and Atticus?"

Jean furrowed her brow. "Why wouldn't they be?" She asked. "We're always fine, we discuss—"

"I'm not talkin' about that, dear," Edie replied. "I'm talking about…" her mother trailed off, nodding her head as though Jean was supposed to guess what was supposed to come next.

"About what?"

"Honey, she means in bed." Aunt Bea nodded.

"Jesus Lord Almighty!"

"Eugenia!"

"I am _not_ talkin'—"

"I'm just sayin', if you're havin' problems in—"

"We are _fine_ , I promise." Jean said hastily as she stood up.

"Eugenia, you're not a child anymore, where the hell are you goin'?"

"I'm gonna go drown myself in my tub, that's what I'm gonna do." She replied quickly, now more desperate for Louise's presence than ever.

-o-o-o-

Louise still hadn't arrived in Maycomb and Christmas day, and it wasn't until they were leaving to go to Finch's Landing that Jean's mother informed her that they would simply be meeting Louise at their destination. Despite the fact that Jean found that she could actually enjoy herself during the holidays without Louise's presence, it still seemed as though _something_ was missing, and she couldn't help but to be disappointed by the fact that it had been so long since she'd seen Louise. Throughout the day, Jean simply needed to remind herself that she'd be seeing Louise at the Landing, and things would soon feel like normal.

When they had arrived to the Landing, it appeared as though everyone else had arrived before they had. Instead of being greeted by Alexandra at the front door, they faced Henry, her twenty-three year old son. He had taken after his mother and married young, and for the past two years Alexandra had been pestering him about when he was going to give her grandchildren. Despite the fact that the young man was just as annoying as his mother, he already looked dejected.

"Ha, let me guess, kid," Jack said as they walked through the doorway. "Your mother's already on a rampage."

"Aunt Caroline, actually." He responded, causing Jack and Atticus to give each other surprised glances. "She's been basically attached at mama's hip because she and Uncle Joe are in a fight or somethin' and she just about tore Ruth's head off because she refuses to speak a word."

Ruth was Caroline's sixteen-year-old daughter, who was the exact opposite of Henry. While she displayed a certain amount of self-confidence, she wasn't pompous about it, and she was far more personable than her cousin. Usually, at family gatherings, Ruth's laugh could be heard from miles away and it wasn't until this moment that Jean realized that her niece was probably perfectly aware of whatever was happening between her parents.

"Maybe she's just havin' a bad day," Jean tried to rationalize.

"But it's Christmas," Henry replied.

"That doesn't mean you can't have a bad day," she retorted quickly as the younger man shook his head.

"Boy, I'm scared to see you and your sisters together," he mumbled to himself. "I reckon it's like Medusa and her heads."

-o-o-o-

As Henry had described, both Caroline and Joe were in horrific moods. The two of them could hardly stand being in the same room as one another, and when they were together, the atmosphere of the room became so tense that even Alexandra herself felt uneasy. All the while, poor Ruth did as best as she could to avoid her parents. Instead, wherever she went she took Clara and Libby with her, as though the younger girls were to guard her from any discomfort that may arise.

Due to her absence, Jean had expected Louise to behave strangely once they were reunited, and unfortunately her suspicions were correct. Louise, much unlike her usual self, was incredibly bubbly. Her pitch was higher than usual, and there seemed to be some sort of nervous energy about her as she talked to Jean about where she had been the past couple of days.

What was even stranger was the fact that there was no sign that Louise and Jack were plotting their usual shenanigans. It made Jean believe her sister was hiding something.

What was also strange was the fact that Phil, her friend from up north, followed her everywhere like some sort of lost puppy (both the Finch's and Graham's were incredibly overwhelming people, so Jean couldn't blame him too much). He was a solemn looking thing who was a good foot and a half taller than Louise, making her look much younger than she actually was. Rather than speaking, he simply observed everyone in the room as Louise animatedly talked to her sisters.

"This is the most important man in my life," Louise informed Phil seriously as she lifted Jeremy into her arms. At first the toddler, who was enjoying his independence more and more with each passing day, attempted to resist his aunt's efforts at constraining him. However, after a few minutes of serious coercion, the little boy was happily rested on Louise's hip. "His name is Jeremy, he's two years old and will certainly be an economics professor at Harvard one day because his daddy reads him all the borin' stuff in the newspaper."

Jean chuckled as Phil seriously extended his hand to Jeremy. "Pleasure, Dr. Finch." He said. After a few moments of careful consideration, Jeremy hit his hand.

"Jeremy," Jean warned. "That wasn't very polite."

In response, Jeremy laughed mischievously as Phil gave the small boy a smile. "Forgive me," Jean smiled at the strange man. "Behavin' isn't his strong suit yet."

"Nuh-uh," Jeremy said, vigorously shaking his head. Louise mimicked him, causing the boys cheeks to go scarlet with delight.

Still smiling, Phil shrugged. "At least he acknowledges it."

"Forgive me again," Jean said slowly. "But who are you?"

Louise's eyes seemed to flash with worry as she directed her gaze at her sister, giving her an awkward smile. "I'm a friend of your sister's," he responded carefully, and Jean couldn't help but notice Louise relax quite a bit. "I'm actually her teacher-turned-friend."

"Teacher-turned-friend?" Jean asked as Atticus approached her. Jimmy, Alexandra's husband, was so apathetic towards his wife and what she did that Atticus was usually tasked with doing the chores that he never got around to during the day.

"A very interesting relationship," Atticus remarked, smiling at the other man. "Atticus Finch." Politely, Atticus extended his hand to Phil, who weakly shook it.

"You've got a lovely family," Phil told him. "I appreciate being able to come."

Before Atticus could answer, Jean cleared her throat. "So, what does that mean?" She asked, trying to see what exactly was putting Louise on edge.

"What does what mean?" Louise responded.

"Teacher-turned-friend," Jean responded, a smirk growing on her face as Louise shifted in place.

"It means exactly the way it sounds, he was my teacher and became my friend," Louise responded. "He didn't have anywhere to go for the holidays so I invited him here."

"That was very gracious of you, Louise." Jean said quickly. "What kind of teacher is he?"

"Literature and poetry," Phil responded before Louise could say anything. "Louise was in poetry seminar for the fall at a small school in Boston."

So, _that's_ why Louise had apparently gone missing.

"I didn't know you were doin' that," Jean responded, the smile on her face growing progressively fake with each passing minute.

"It's no big deal, Jean," Louise said quickly, shrugging. "I was stayin' with Julia from school and she was takin' classes there so I thought I'd do it too for fun."

"Good!" Jeremy cheered before Jean could even respond. In response the two sisters laughed at the little boy, whose grin grew at the sudden burst of attention he was receiving. "Good, Lou!" He said again.

"Very good," Louise responded as she smoothed some hair away from his face.

"Well, that _is_ good for you." Jean responded. "I'm glad to see you're learnin' things even at your old age."

Louise rolled her eyes. "Honey, you're even older than me." She smirked as Alexandra entered to tell them that their dinner was ready.

-o-o-o-

"I'll sit at the table with the children, Aunty." Ruth had insisted as Alexandra told her that she _finally_ was able to eat with the adults. Alexandra, who thought that her decision to include Ruth at the adult table would make her happy, looked genuinely surprised. "Jeremy's gettin' older and more mobile now, and it's easier for me to help him than Clara." She quickly explained.

"I appreciate that very much," Jean said quickly, smiling at her niece, knowing that the girl wanted to be anywhere but at the same table as both of her parents. "Jeremy's a ball of energy, it'll be a big help to your uncle and I."

Ruth instantly looked relieved. "I'll gladly do it," she smiled as she took the place settings that Alexandra had in her hands and took them to the children's table in the kitchen, where she would obviously have a much better time.

After what seemed to be ages, the entire family was finally settled into their seats and beginning to indulge in everything that Alexandra had prepared. Despite the fact that the end of the table where Caroline and Joe sat seemed slightly uncomfortable, the dining room was filled with the sound of pleasant conversation.

"So, Henry," Edie said. "How are you and Maggie enjoyin' bein' married?"

"Quite well, Mrs. Graham." He responded briskly. "It's been quite nice so far."

"The only thing missin' is children," Alexandra interjected as Henry flashed his mother an irritated glare.

"Mama, _please_."

"For Christs' sake, Zandra, the boy was just toilet trained last year." Jack retorted, causing Louise to laugh. She sat directly across from Jean, sandwiched between Jack and Phil. Noticing that he had amused his neighbor, Jack quickly extended his hand to Louise for a victorious high-five.

"Jack, I'm certain there's a spot at the children's table destined for you." Caroline smirked as Jack haughtily shrugged his shoulders. In response, Joe muttered something.

"What did you say?" Caroline asked tersely, glaring at her soon-to-be ex-husband.

"Nothin'."

"Yes you did,"

"I didn't."

"I heard you."

"Your hearing's gone bad, then."

"Joe—"

"Well, aren't we all pleasant on this beautiful day of our Savior's birth?" Jack said mockingly as Caroline directed her dagger-eyes to him. "Ok-aay, then." He said, quickly looking down at his place, his sneer still wide on his face.

"Well, I have somethin' excitin' to tell y'all," Louise said abruptly, sitting up straighter in her chair.

"Joe, you're a right old ass." Caroline nearly growled, causing everyone's eyes to be directed at her.

"Caroline," Alexandra nearly shrieked.

"Man, Liney." Jack chuckled. Jean noticed that all Atticus could do was stare at his sister with wild perplexity in his eyes.

"Caroline, you're ruinin' everything as usual." Joe grumbled, and Jean almost could've sworn that Alexandra was about to have a heart attack.

"Really, Joe? Really? _I_ ruin everything?"

Jean's eyes quickly met with Louise's, who was trying her hardest not to look amused by all that was happening. "Shit," she mouthed, making Jean want to laugh.

"That young lady over there was tryin' to say something," Joe responded. "If you could stop makin' a fool of yourself for one minute—"

"I'm not the fool here, _Joe_ ," she huffed. "And her name is Louise, if you paid any attention—"

" _Caroline_ ," Alexandra warned, her face a shade of red Jean had never seen before. "I don't know why you're behavin' this way but for goodness sake, stop it and let Louise say whatever she was going to say."

Just as Louise said: "Phil and I got married last week," Caroline tersely declared: "Joe and I are getting a divorce."

"What?!" Jean and Alexandra nearly screamed at the same time.

"Wait, wait, wait," Jack said, quickly looking from Louise to Caroline. "That's not what I thought…wait what, what?"

"Are you kiddin' me?!" Alexandra asked, nearly knocking the table over as she stood up.

"Louise, what the _hell_ do you mean?!" Jean asked as Louise's face progressively grew red.

"Louise, you told me you were _engaged_." Edie said seriously, glaring at her second daughter. " _Engaged_."

"I was, and then I got married." Louise said meekly.

"Alexandra stop actin' like you're some sorta saint because God knows that you aren't!" Caroline shrieked back.

"I'm going to _kill_ you, Caroline, I'm going to _kill_ you." Alexandra said.

As Jean attempted to stand up, Atticus put his hand on her shoulder preventing her from doing so. His eyes quickly moved from Alexandra to Jean as things slowly began to deteriorate in the living room. "Zandra, just sit down." He said calmly.

"Atticus, don't tell me what to do!"

"Don't talk to him that way!" Caroline retorted.

"See what you did there, Caroline?" Joe piped up.

"Hey Joe, why don't you just shut up unless you want me to kill you!"

"Jack!"

"Sorry, Atticus, I was just feedin' into everyone else."

"Louise, I don't understand _why_ you would do this!"

"I don't understand why it's a big deal!"

"How about we all just take a deep breath—"Henry started.

"Be quiet!" Jean and Alexandra snapped.

"Louise this is by far the _stupidest_ thing you've done!"

"Phil's right here, you know!"

"I've stopped caring!"

" _Eugenia, Louise_."

"Caroline, I'm never goin' to forgive you. _Ever_."

"Zandra…"

"Atticus, I swear I'm gonna kill her, I'm gonna kill her," Alexandra replied, pressing her hand against her mouth. "Mama wouldn't want—"

"She's been dead for _years_ , Zandra!"

"Caroline, enough." Atticus said in his courtroom voice.

"Zandra if you knew what he did—"

"What I did? Ha! Like you're a saint!"

"I hate you so much, Joe, I hate you so much I could kill you right here."

"Louise, you shouldn't have rushed into this—"

"Edie, I know what I'm doin'!"

"Obviously not!"

"Jean, I don't get why you're so mad at this!"

"Because I want what's best for you, that's why!" Jean said, pushing Atticus' hand off of her shoulder as she stood up. "You've made a mistake, a big mistake!"

"Caroline, you ain't a peach either!"

"Thank _God_ Atticus is filin' the papers tomorrow!"

" _What?!_ "

"Zandra, now—"

"Atticus, have you lost your mind?!"

"I'm doin' what I've been asked!"

As she crossed the room to go into the kitchen, Jean was able to get a quick glimpse at everyone in the room, and couldn't help but to notice how terribly _hurt_ Louise looked. While a certain part of her felt guilty for hurting her sister like that, she stood by that Louise was making a mistake. Quickly, she went into the kitchen, where sounds of the fight were still audible. The three girls were old enough to know perfectly well what was going on (and poor Ruth looked like she wanted to die on the spot), Jeremy seemed highly amused by the amounts of noise coming from the other room. At the sight of his mother, Jeremy slid off of the chair he was sitting in and immediately attached himself to her leg. Hobbling across the room, she approached the sink where the dirty dishes sat, and not knowing what else to do, she began washing them.

"I can't believe them," Ruth muttered dejectedly.

"I'm sorry, sweet." Was all Jean could think to say.

A few moments later, Jean heard the kitchen door swing open, but refused to look behind her. "Jean?" Louise asked nervously. "Jean, what was that?"

"I'm not talkin' about this in front of them."

"Please," Louise said as she approached the sink. Absent-mindedly, she picked up a washrag and began drying the things Jean had already washed. "I just don't understand—"

Finally, Jean looked at Louise. She wasn't crying, but the look on her face indicated that anything that Jean said could dissolve her into a fit of tears at any moment, which made Jean's heart ache. In her entire life, she never wanted to hurt her sister. Jean's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I think," Jean said slowly. "I just think you moved too quickly."

"I love him," she responded, almost embarrassedly.

"Do you even know him?"

Louise shot up and inhaled deeply. "Of course I do, he—"

"From what I can tell, it's only been a few months, that's hardly enough—"

"I'm not like you, Jean," she said. "I don't wait four years, I-I just knew—"

"Your impulsiveness is going to be your downfall."

"I'll prove it to you," Louise said, forcing a smile. "I'll prove to you that I made the right choice."

In response, Jean forced herself to smile at Louise. "I hope you do." Was all she said.

Before Louise could say anything else, the kitchen doors swung open again. "Att'cus!" Jeremy, who was now sitting on the floor playing with one of Alexandra's pots, exclaimed as his father picked him up. His cheeks were flushed and he looked downright exhausted. His eyes moved from Jean to Louise as he chuckled to himself.

"Alexandra's locked in her bedroom, Caroline in the study," he began. "Jack has scared Joe into the front yard and everyone else is pretendin' like nothin' happened, so I think it's time to go."

"Phil's drivin' Hattie, Aunt Bea and I to Maudie's," Louise smirked. "So I'll see y'all tomorrow. After today I'm sure we'll all need a good night's sleep." She laughed to herself as she said that last part. She and Jean hugged stiffly before she kissed Jeremy and hugged Atticus and the girl's goodbye and left the kitchen.

"What a night," Jean sighed as she and Atticus exchanged weary glances.

-o-o-o-

Unlike previous Christmases, saying goodbye to everyone was incredibly awkward. Both Caroline and Alexandra refused to leave where they were stationed, no one was quite sure where Ruth had gone and Henry was so traumatized it was as though he had gone mute for the rest of the evening. Before leaving to go back to Maycomb, Louise awkwardly said goodbye to her mother who either looked as though she was going to be sick or murder someone.

"Jack Finch, I could kill you." Edie mumbled as she joined him and Jeremy in the backseat. At this point in the evening, Jean and Atticus could hardly be phased by what _anyone_ said anymore.

"Um, why, ma'am?"

"I know you knew."

Jack sat up, startling Jeremy who was just falling asleep. "Oh no," he said, shaking his head and trying not to chuckle to himself. "I knew she was engaged, but I didn't know what she did. Trust me, if I knew that she was plannin' on sneakin' off and goin' through with it I would've told all y'all, I would've shouted it from—"

"I get your point." Edie said dryly.

"So, I wasn't expectin' Caroline—"

"Jack?" Jean asked.

"Yes?"

"Stop talkin'." Maybe Atticus' previous concerns were right; maybe change wasn't what this family needed this year.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I hope everyone had a great holiday! I was hoping to post this chapter earlier, but I went home for Christmas about ten days ago and had very limited computer time. When I started this I was hoping that it would be a bigger chapter, but it ended up being more of a transition-y chapter (it's about 3 AM my time and I found that my ability to function is slowly dwindling… my sleeping pattern has been all messed up since I've been home). I'm going back to my apartment tomorrow and still have some time before my semester begins, so hopefully I will be able to update this more! Also, there's a rather big time jump in this chapter, so I hope it's been written well—I think it was definitely necessary haha.

-o-o-o-

After what happened at Christmas, Jean was almost certain that some sort of schism would occur within the Finch family. With Atticus filing Caroline's divorce and Caroline _actually_ getting a divorce, Jean thought that Alexandra would have finally had it with her siblings and refuse to talk to anyone. While, personally, Jean would not have minded if Alexandra refused to talk to any of them ever again, she couldn't help but to worry for Atticus' sake. As annoying as Alexandra was, she and Atticus had a very close relationship, and she knew he'd be hurt if he thought he did something to cause her to stop talking to him.

But, as the months passed and winter turned to spring, Alexandra seemed to forego everything that happened and continued acting like her usual, pestering self. And, by the time summer reared its scorching head, Alexandra had seemed to perfect the art of pretending that nothing had ever happened. Jean wasn't quite sure what was going on between Alexandra and Caroline, but considering that everything was fine in Atticus' world she found that she didn't need to care about the state of relations between the other Finch siblings.

As for Louise, Jean couldn't help but wonder if her sister was realizing her mistake yet.

After what happened at Christmas dinner, the rest of Louise's stay in Maycomb was relatively awkward. Yes, her sister visited with Jean every day and attempted to carry on with things as though they were normal, but every time the two sisters were together there was some sort of awkwardness in the air that neither of them chose to address. Instead, they pretended as though nothing had even happened.

Jean _tried_ to get to know Phil, she really did. She thought that, even though she disagreed wholeheartedly with Louise's decision, she should at least attempt to get to know the man who had now taken up so much prevalence in Louise's life. But, she soon discovered that he was a very self-isolating man. He followed Louise around, yet the way he acted made it seem as though he wasn't actually there. Jean wasn't sure if this was his natural disposition, or if he closed himself off to her because of what she said at Christmas. Either way, her attempts at getting to know him simply reaffirmed Jean's thoughts that her sister made a terrible mistake.

If Louise had just been a little more _conventional_ (though that's hardly a word used to describe Louise), maybe Jean wouldn't have felt so anxious about the entire thing. Jean had never once heard Louise mention Phil before Christmas, causing her to think that her sister merely rushed into this. This perplexed Jean, because even though Louise wasn't the model lady by any standards, she usually put at least _some_ thought into her actions. To Jean this seemed like a rushed and careless decision, which caused her to think that maybe something else was wrong with Louise. At the root of things, this scared Jean because she thought she knew Louise better than anybody else, yet was so completely blind-sighted by what her sister did that she couldn't even begin to think of possible reasons for why Louise did this. The fact that this wasn't a calculated and well-thought out decision made Jean think that soon her sister would be miserable.

So, after a week of awkward teas and silent lunches, Louise left with the rest of her family. But, instead of returning to Montgomery, where she wasn't _too_ far away, she returned to Boston with her new husband. As they boarded the train to leave, Jean couldn't help but to think of every terrible situation that could possibly play out before her head. Naturally, she hoped she was wrong, hoped that she was just being a paranoid sister that thought too much. She tried to remind herself that everything wasn't cookie-cutter perfect and that one person's rationality was different than another's, but deep within her she still _knew_ that this was a mistake.

In the months that followed, Louise still called regularly, and the two sisters continued to act as though nothing had ever happened. Louise barely talked about Phil, which Jean didn't seem to mind at all, and when the two of them weren't face-to-face it wasn't as terribly awkward as it had been the last time she was in Alabama.

In light of what had happened that Christmas as well as the two years before it, Jean was thankful for the prospect of a quiet year. It seemed as though, finally, after Charlotte's death, Jean's miscarriages, and their family's overall troubles, Jean and Atticus were finally getting back to a place of normalcy. They went about their lives just as they did before this turbulence started, and a sense of peacefulness began to settle over them.

That peacefulness wouldn't last for long, unfortunately.

She was pregnant, again.

It seemed as though just when the prospect of having another baby left Jean's mind, Doctor Reynolds informed her that another Finch baby would hopefully be making their grand appearance that July.

She wanted so desperately to be excited, she really did, but instead she found herself sinking further and further into the chair she was seated in as Doctor Reynolds talked to her. At this point, even though the desire for another baby had the ability to completely take over her, Jean knew this all too well. It was as though being told she was pregnant again was actually her finding out that she was bound to have another miscarriage.

So, she didn't tell Atticus.

For nearly three weeks after she had her appointment with Doctor Reynolds, Jean concealed the fact that she was pregnant from _everyone_ , including her husband. She wasn't sure what had driven her to make such a potentially unwise decision, but she figured that if she was bound to lose the baby, Atticus' not knowing didn't hurt him any.

Yet, in the three weeks that passed, Jean still hadn't lost the baby. With the passage of time, Jean was closer and closer to being further along than she had been the last time she had a miscarriage. She couldn't help but to think that it was a good sign, yet she still remained skeptical. What made matters worse was the longer she waited to tell Atticus, the harder it was becoming for her. She felt as though she was going to burst from keeping this secret contained inside of her for so long.

But, as things turned out to be more hopeful, she knew she was going to have to tell him soon or else she'd look like a right old idiot. But, what if after she told him something bad happened? Then she'd feel like a bigger fool. Either way, she just couldn't win.

But she was going to have a _baby_.

As she watched Jeremy grow up before her very eyes, she couldn't help but to be simply ecstatic about the thought of another baby. She could almost imagine the bright eyes and chubby cheeks and the mere thought of it brought her so much joy she almost forgot that she was completely terrified at the same time.

As the end of October neared, Jean decided that she _must_ tell Atticus sooner or later. At first she thought of cowardly ways to do it, like writing a note or stupidly calling his office so she wouldn't have to look at him, but she quickly knew that those weren't the right things to do. She knew she had to do it in person and just get it over with, but she didn't realize how incredibly hard it was going to be for her.

That morning before he went to work, she rose early with him. She thought about telling him over breakfast but decided it would most certainly mess up his day and she didn't want to do that. When he came home she thought of doing it while he played with Jeremy—maybe he wouldn't look so afraid or apprehensive in front of his son, but of course she hesitated again. She almost told him over dinner, but something in the back of her mind found another reason to wait just a few more moments.

Now it was almost late. The two of them sat on the porch swing enjoying the small breezes that accompanied the fall. Jeremy had long since gone to bed, and if it weren't for the steady swaying of the swing, Jean herself would've fallen asleep. She and Atticus simply sat there, quietly enjoying their surroundings. That is, until Jean said:

"Atticus, I'm pregnant."

She wasn't quite sure why she was so surprised at the fact that he remained so calm. At first he didn't look at her, his gaze still remaining focused on the street that stretched out in front of him. It seemed as though her heart had lodged itself in her throat and stopped beating in the time it took for Atticus to finally acknowledge her. Slowly, he turned to look at her, his expression remaining unchanged.

"I wasn't expectin' that," was the first thing he said. She immediately felt her face flush red as she inhaled sharply in a hasty attempt to not look so anxious. He chuckled to himself and the second thing he said was: "why, you look like you've just seen a poltergeist."

He was trying to be funny, trying to say _something_ that would not make her feel so worried or stupid, and she tried to laugh back in an attempt to show him that she was completely _fine_ , but she ended up simply appearing nervous _and_ twitchy.

Despite the fact that he was smiling at her, she couldn't help but notice that his own anxiety mirrored her own. "Um, I," she began, picking at a piece of skin by her fingernail. "I don't know—"

"Sweet, you're actin' like you did this all on your own," he told her. "You shouldn't look apologetic."

She forced a smile. "We had an agreement—"

"Sometimes things happen that are beyond our control." He responded. He was always so reasonable, she thought to herself. Even when things didn't go the way he wanted or planned, he was always so damn reasonable. Despite the fact that his ability to adapt himself to any situation should have made her feel better, it just made her feel worse, as if she didn't deserve to have someone as levelheaded as him.

"I'm just scared—"

"I don't blame you," he responded, resting his hand on her knee. "I can't lie, I thought my heart just about stopped when you told me."

"You didn't look it," she pointed out.

"I'm old, sweet, my face doesn't show emotion quite like it used to." He retorted quickly, making her laugh. "You know, I should be insulted by the fact you were quick to be amused, but I like your smile too much to be offended."

"Can you imagine Jeremy with a baby?" She thought aloud, smiling to herself as she rested her chin on his shoulder. "I don't think he'd know what to do with himself."

"I think he'd be taken aback," he agreed. "My mama used'ta tell me that I was downright afraid of Zandra when she was born. I apparently wouldn't go near her for a good month."

Jean laughed to herself. _You probably saw how downright nasty she was gonna be_ , she thought to herself. "I can see that, sweet." She said instead, deciding to hold her tongue.

"I hope," he said, clearing his throat. "I hope this works out."

The pit of anxiety slowly began to return. "I do, too." She whispered.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: I'm not going to lie, I did not proofread this _at all_. So if there are any mistakes, I really apologize! I kinda rushed through this—my semester starts again next week and I have my thesis due and my comprehensive exams in two months so I am officially in hustle mode (though I feel like I must say that I just got my LSAT scores back this week and I got high enough to get into my school of choice, so I'm focusing more on the future now than ever! Basically my mind is everywhere and I am a hot mess of excitement and nerves). That being said, my updates will probably be _really_ sporadic (more than usual). But I definitely want to keep writing, this is such a fun creative outlet for me! Plus, I have two ideas brewing in my mind for once this is done (one of them was inspired by me watching a show about beauty pageants [that's all I'm going to say]). Thanks again for being so patient, and hopefully I'll have more written soon!

-o-o-o-

With the passage of time, Jean at least thought that Atticus would grow more excited about the prospect of a new baby.

She was horribly mistaken.

It wasn't as if he was resentful or angry, but Jean could just sense that as time progressed Atticus' anxiety was increasing if anything. While she was still quite apprehensive herself, it would be a complete lie for her to say that she wasn't absolutely overwhelmed with excitement about her baby.

As time moved on, the baby was becoming _real_. She was getting bigger and could actually _feel_ the baby moving inside of her. It was active, more active than Jeremy had been, and Jean took that as a sign that perhaps the baby was telling her that they were alright, that everything was alright. She tried sharing that with Atticus, who merely gazed at her over his glasses, shrugged and kissed her temple before going back to his book. She felt a little disheartened about the fact that, especially compared to when she was pregnant with Jeremy, Atticus seemed completely disinterested about the baby. While Jean talked on and on about the baby and how excited she was, her husband would merely smile at her, nod his head and either change the subject or go back to playing with Jeremy or whatever else he was doing. Jean figured that he didn't want to attach himself to something that might not possibly happen, but as their chances grew more and more likely, Jean couldn't help but to feel taken aback.

"The baby's movin' again," she said as the two of them laid in bed reading. It was the middle of April, and although the weather outside wasn't _too_ hot, she still required her thin nightgowns and their thin sheets for her to possibly begin to be comfortable. "Do you wanna feel?"

"I know what it feels like," he responded, smiling gently at her before bringing his attention back to his book.

She couldn't helped but to feel shocked. She tried to bring her attention back to the book she had set out in front of her, but found that the only thing she could do was to continue to look at him as an attempt to understand what was going on in his head. Sighing, she folded the corner of her book. "Sweet?" She asked.

"Hmm?" He responded.

"Are you alright?" She asked slowly, waiting for him to look away from his book.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He asked. Quickly, he reached for her hand in an attempt to show her just how fine he was. To her, he felt stiff.

"You're acting strangely." She replied bluntly, pursing her lips.

He raised his eyebrows. "I don't see how, sweet."

"You seem secluded."

"I'm not secluded."

"Then what are you?"

He paused and examined his wife. Despite the fact that there was still a smile on his face, his eyes did not reflect that jovial manner. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, he said: "I am…. I'm _worried_ , Jean."

Her heart sank ever so slightly by the fact that her husband didn't even bother to _talk_ to her about how he was feeling. Instead, he chose to come off as distant, which he _never_ did. "Well," she said uneasily, sighing as she looked down at her growing stomach. "I'm worried, too. We can _talk_ about it."

"I can't." He said simply, and by now the smile had faded from his face and was replaced by a look of fear. "We can't talk about it."

"Why not?" She asked pleadingly. "Why can't we?"

"Do you know what that would do to you?" He asked, his tone growing more serious. "You're a worrier by nature, sweet. It'll only make you worry more and then—"

"Your ulcers will surely act up, I don't see _any_ problem with you tellin' me—"

"You can't think about me," he said firmly. "You can't—"

"You're my _husband_ —"

Atticus chuckled sullenly to himself. "You've ruined me, dear."

It was as if her breath got caught in her throat. Feeling her face growing redder, she glowered at him. "What do you mean by that?" She asked slowly, careful not to say anything she'd regret.

This time, he laughed at her. She wasn't sure whether to be angry at Atticus or downright worried by how strangely he was behaving. Quickly, he kissed her cheek. "I used to be able to hide anything from anyone, but I can't with you—you've ruined me."

Crossing her arms, she rolled her eyes at him. "I told you you'd come to despise me one day." She retorted quickly. "You didn't listen."

"It's because I love you more than anything on this earth."

"Then why won't you talk to me?"

The spirited smile that once lightened his face quickly disappeared again as he sighed. "There are certain things I don't what to discuss." He responded solemnly.

"Hmm," she said mockingly. "So Stephanie was right, you _do_ have a mistress?"

Normally, her teasing him would at least cause him to lighten up a little bit, but instead the serious look on his face remained unchanging. "I dream of you _dying_ , Jean." He said in a small voice that was enough to make Jean want to bury herself alive out of shame.

"Sweet," she started, wringing her hands.

"I shouldn't have said anything." He said seriously, taking his gaze away from her and back onto his book before setting the object on the nightstand with a soft _thump_.

"You should have."

"I don't want anything to happen." He admitted. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Well, I don't really want that to happen, either…" She replied playfully, only to receive another serious look from Atticus. "Not funny, I'm sorry."

His expression lightened ever so slightly as he took her hand in his once again. "I just worry about you," he admitted again. "I can't tell you what I'd do—"

"It'll be _fine_ ," she said firmly, attempting to give him a reassuring look. "It's been nearly six months, and nothing has happened, it'll be just like it was with Jeremy."

"You've heard Doctor Reynolds," Atticus said grimly, forcing Jean to face something that she had honestly been avoiding for the past couple of weeks. The last time she saw him, he expressed his genuine concern over how smoothly this would go. In anticipation, he even secured the help of _two_ additional midwives just in case the worst would happened. While Jean was able to let that sink to the back of her mind, she knew that it was something Atticus thought about each day. "He doesn't think this will go easily— _he's_ concerned. I just think—"

"Don't," she said quickly, her voice slightly higher in pitch. "Don't think anything bad will happen."

At that moment, she felt foolish. It was as if she were a child again, thoroughly convinced that if you at least _say_ everything will be alright, then everything will actually _be_ alright. As if one's mere optimism can actually change the cruel nature of the world. She knew she should probably be more concerned, but how could she since she basically _knew_ that in just three months' time she'd be having a baby? She had wanted this so desperately that at this point she couldn't help but to feel such a sense of childish hopefulness that everything will turn out the way she expected them to. That wasn't to say she wasn't being cautious or wasn't aware of what could happen, she was simply too hopeful to allow herself to be bogged down with worry. This truly was her last chance.

"We didn't think…" he began, before cutting himself off.

"Didn't think what?"

"Never mind." He responded meekly, in a voice that sounded unfamiliar to her.

"Atticus—"

"We didn't think anything bad would happen to my mother, that's all." He responded softly, almost looking guilty, making Jean inhale sharply.

Now, the ever-familiar ball of anxiety began to grow in the pit of her stomach. Then, she began to feel guilty. Selfishly, this entire time she had forgotten how familiar Atticus was with things like this going wrong. He had lost his mother, and now he feared losing his wife. It was at this moment that she realized how likely it was that the worst could happen, yet she wasn't quite sure what the _worst_ actually was. Was it losing the baby? Was it having the baby too early? Was it _Jean_ herself actually dying? The more she thought about it, the more she realized how once again the list of bad things that could possibly happen far outweighed the good. She didn't have the cleanest track record when it came to this, so what made her think that it would actually work out in her favor this time?

Almost immediately, her thoughts shifted from Atticus to Simon. Ashamedly, Jean had to admit that she had not really thought of her lost nephew as frequently as she used to. It was almost as if all of the good things happening in her life made her bury him in the back of the mind, hiding for just the right moment to strike. She wasn't one to believe in religion or the supernatural, her father (a good Southern man in every respect except religion) had started to raise his three oldest daughters with the belief that these ideas were all some sort of bullshit, and therefore she never really found herself associating with things such as God or ghosts or spirits or what have you. So, maybe this was some kind of grand punishment. Maybe God really did exist and was punishing her. _You didn't believe_ , she imagined him saying. _You didn't believe and you forgot the nephew you were_ supposed _to be watching. I'll show you_.

Now, that was bullshit.

Blinking quickly, Jean attempted to get herself back to reality. This will be fine, she thought to herself. This will be fine, she and Atticus will be happy and she'll have a healthy baby. That's what was going to happen.

Yet, the dark thoughts she was having still lurked in the back of her mind, prepared to come out at full force at any given moment.

Feeling her face flush, she squeezed her husband's hand. "I'm sorry," she whispered, as though that could alleviate every worry from his mind.

-o-o-o-

Jean had had seven months of beautiful calmness before her awful luck reared its ugly head.

One random May morning, long after Atticus had gone to work and Jeremy had eaten his breakfast, Jean was thoroughly convinced she was going to have the baby. When she started feeling pains similar to those she felt when she was having Jeremy, her first instinct was to panic. It was too early, she thought to herself. It was too early and therefore something awful was bound to happen.

To make matters worse, she was bleeding.

She had sequestered herself in the bathroom, bloody, in pain and absolutely terrified and the only thing she could hear was Jeremy giggling with Cal. Her heart sank. What if she lost the baby, the baby who was moving that exact morning? What if the same thing happened to her that happened to Atticus' mother? She heard Cal call Jeremy a sweet boy, and she was struck with what seemed to be a mixture of despair and jealousy. What if Cal had to raise her son? What if she died and Atticus married someone new, and her children loved that woman more than her? Hot tears had sprang in her eyes, and she wasn't sure what was happening or her wild imagination.

After anxiously telling Cal to call for help, Doctor Reynolds had rushed to her aid that warm, sticky day. As he examined her in their guest bedroom, Jean heard her son worriedly ask where his father was, making Jean realize that no one had called Atticus. Her heart sinking even further, Jean had anxiously begged for Cal to call him. In suit, Cal had been so ashamed that she had forgot to call him in the first place that Jean felt horrible for even bringing it up in the first place.

Her bleeding stopped, and the pain subsided, yet Jean had remained under the impression that something terrible was happening because of the grave looks on both Doctor Reynold's and Atticus' faces. She found that at this moment she could hardly look at Atticus without wanting to cry, not only was he out of breath from _running_ to their house from his office, but the look of absolute fear on her usually composed husband was almost too much to bear.

Yet, despite the nervous glances from Atticus, and the looks of dread from Doctor Reynolds, everything was under control. The baby was still moving and still seemed healthy, and Jean hardly bled as much as her last miscarriages, so this had to be some horrible fluke. Some reminder of what could be taken from her at any instance.

That was nearly a month ago. After that dreadful incident, Doctor Reynolds told Jean that she must be confined to her bed for the rest of her pregnancy, and the only reason she would be allowed to get up was if she needed to use the restroom. She had been absolutely mortified when he suggested that if she needed to bathe, that Cal did it in case anything else happened (she was an adult for Gods' sake!). While at first she felt like a prisoner, she reckoned that if she was actually going to have this baby, she was going to have to live under such conditions.

She couldn't lie, however, if someone were to ask if she were miserable.

Not only was she simply _sore_ from laying in that bed all day every day, but she was now _huge_. She could hardly find a position in which she was comfortable, and although she wanted the baby to come when it was supposed to, she couldn't help but to think that she wouldn't mind having it any day now.

On top of that, she was just _nervous_. But it was such a strange sensation, because as the baby grew and she felt it move around more and more, she was filled with such overwhelming joy that she almost couldn't contain herself. But then came the anxiety like some sort of bitter aftertaste. Since she was forced to be in bed all of the time, the most dreadful questions popped into her head, and as the time drew nearer for the baby to come, the worst possible situations continued to replay over and over in her head.

She supposed that Atticus was doing the same. While he and Jeremy made sure to do their daily playing and reading ritual in the bedroom with Jean, she could sense a hint of hardness on her husband's face. As usual, he smiled and laughed along with Jeremy as they did something silly or read something funny, but his eyes didn't have the usual gleam they did when he was with his son. In her mind she knew that the horrible situations were playing themselves out in his head as well.

Yet, at the same time he seemed to be slightly happier than he had been in a while. He became interested in feeling the baby move, and began to actually _talk_ about the baby and what they'd be like and how Jeremy would get along. He was thoroughly convinced that they were going to have another boy, and would obsessively talk about how Jeremy would act with his _little brother_ during the time he would usually spend reading. He seemed more at ease, and it honestly helped to make Jean feel slightly better herself.

That June, Louise had come to visit and declared that she would be like the spinster aunt living in the guest room until the baby was born. She excitedly sat and chatted with Jean while Atticus was at work and Cal was occupied. She would bring Jeremy in and the three of them would laugh together and Jean almost forgot that she was going to be confined for yet another month.

Jean also couldn't help but to feel relieved that Phil _wasn't_ there.

Nearly a week after Louise had arrived, she and Jean lay in the bed together, talking about Montgomery and their mother and Boston and everything under the sun.

Everything except Phil, that was.

"You look tired," Jean observed after a few moments of silence. Louise tilted her head back with laughter before looking at her sister. She _did_ look tired. She looked thinner, and the bags under her eyes almost made her look sickly.

"That's comin' from the woman who has a melon under her nightgown and is confined to a bed for two months," she teased. " _I_ look tired."

"You do," she affirmed. "Is Atticus workin' you too hard?" She added jokingly.

Louise scoffed. "I _try_ to help," she responded. "Cal won't let me do a damned thing, she says I'm a guest and I shouldn't have to work. I'm here to _help_."

"You sittin' here is a help."

"I'm glad I'm useful to someone," she smirked.

"Why do you look tired?"

"You're like a gnat."

"I'm not tryin' to guilt trip you or anything," she began slowly. "But I am confined to my bed because somethin' almost happened—"

"Oh shut up," Louise hissed. "Don't talk about that. I just haven't been sleepin' too well."

"Well, why not?"

"First of all, I may be slightly worried that somethin' might happen to my sister." She replied, crossing her arms. Though she tried to make a joke of it, Jean could sense the truth behind what she was saying.

"And what else?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said 'first of all'," Jean replied. "Usually that's followed by something else."

"It's nothin'."

"It's somethin'."

"Hell it ain't."

"You looked like you did when you found daddy dead," Jean said quickly, almost immediately regretting it. Louise's face went from shock to sadness.

"Shit,"

"I'm sorry,"

"I lied to you."

"About what?"

"About Phil bein' abroad for teachin'." She responded grimly. "He's in New York with his brother."

"Why would you lie about that?" Jean asked curiously. "It's not like it's a big deal."

"His brother's a therapist." Louise responded, causing Jean to give her a quizzical look. "He tried killing himself."

Louise inhaled sharply as Jean felt her breath getting caught in her throat. "Wai—what?"

"He quit his job months ago and wouldn't leave our apartment," she began. "It was like he went mad, he was always writing—even all night, he wasn't eating, he wasn't sleeping, and one day when I thought he was finally back to his old self, I found him in the bathtub—" she cringed. "I shouldn't tell—"

"I'm fine," Jean said, grabbing onto her sisters hand. "Louise, I'm _fine_. You can tell me _everything_ , just like you used to."

Louise's eyes formed with tears, but she furiously blinked them back. "I _tried_ to help him." She said firmly. "I tried, I did _everything_ I was supportive as I could—Jean, you were right."

"About what."

" _Everything_." The tears were back. "I shouldn't have done it, I shouldn't have gotten married."

"You're just _tired_."

"I didn't want to be alone anymore," she said, her voice cracking. "You have Atticus and Harriet has that beau of hers and I was this crazy spinster aunt who was alone while everyone else was movin' on and he was just so nice and—no man's ever said he loved me before him. I just rushed because I thought if I didn't I would lose him but I am anyway. I haven't seen him since April, his brother doesn't like me much so I've been stayin' with mama—"

"Stay _here_ ," Jean replied firmly. "Stay here for however long you want! You _hate_ Montgomery and you'd see the children every day—"

"Trust me," she said, gulping back her tears. "The moment Atticus told me what happened, I jumped on the first train I could."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I'm a blasted idiot."

"You're not."

Louise scoffed. " _Really_." Jean said, smiling. "Y'know, if I have a daughter, I want to name her Louise because I would want her to be exactly like you because you're _not_ an idiot."

Tearfully, Louise laughed and rolled her eyes.


	16. Chapter 16

Her daughter was born in mid-July, on one of the hottest days Maycomb had experienced that summer.

Unlike Jeremy, who arrived two weeks earlier than expected, Jean Louise Finch took her good old time. In the days leading up to her birth, Jean certainly thought that the baby was _never_ going to come out. As the days dragged on, Jean found herself more impatient. More impatient and more uncomfortable.

But finally, on a Thursday evening, it started.

While it had been nearly four years since Jeremy was born, Jean could distinctively recall that she was not in as much pain back then as she had been with this baby. Once her labor started, it started quickly—she was quite certain that she was going to be torn apart from the pain. Atticus attempted to comfort her, he talked to her soothingly and rubbed her back, but she had been in so much pain she could hardly focus on anything else. When Jeremy was born, she had counted—counted the number of days since Simon's death, since she had met Atticus—she counted anything that was countable. But, this time, the only thing she could focus on was not screaming on the top of her lungs.

"Think of the baby," Atticus finally said, resting his hand on her forehead, his own head close to hers. "You've waited a long time for this," he reminded her. "Think of what you'll be gettin' in the end."

Breathing heavily, she had nodded. "We're havin' a baby," she said softly as he pulled some stray hair away from her face.

He smiled at her. "Here I was just thinkin' you were puttin' on a show."

She had tried to scowl, but found herself too tired to. "This is an awful time to be cruel," she responded.

It had taken nearly a day for Jeremy to be born, and with each minute that passed by during his birth, Jean remembered never wanting to feel that way again. With the pain being even worse than the last time, Jean grew increasingly fearful that it would take just as long—or even longer—for this baby to be born. She not only wanted it over with so that she could _finally_ feel some sense of relief after nearly two months in bed and the most excruciating pain in her life, but she just wanted to see her baby. The miracle that she felt like she had been waiting to have for _years_.

In the days leading up to when everyone thought she would have the baby, an influx of family slowly began appearing at the Finch household. In addition to Louise, who had no plans on when she would leave Maycomb (which Jean was utterly fine with), her mother, Hattie and Alexandra had also arrived—just as they did when Jeremy was born. While when they first arrived Jean found herself simply overwhelmed by the number of women checking in on her at every moment, she was immensely thankful that Jeremy was being well taken care of. He had been in the bedroom with Jean when the pains started, and she was quite certain the boy was going to be traumatized after it. The last time she saw him, before Doctor Reynolds and the midwives arrived, the boy was quite certain that the new baby was going to kill his mama—a thought that made both Jean and Atticus cringe.

Unlike Jeremy, who arrived after _eighteen_ hours of labor, her daughter was born in only ten. After a long, hot night full of pain and every extremity she could think of, she finally had her baby.

Yet, something still had seemed wrong.

As she was told that her baby was almost here, she began to feel as though every ounce of energy had depleted from her body. Her heart felt fluttery, as though she was having a fit of anxiety, which ended up making her more nervous and not helping the situation any. And, although she was overjoyed by the sound of her baby's loud, wet cries, Jean found herself not feeling relief as she had with Jeremy. It didn't help her any that the moment the baby was born, Doctor Reynolds handed it to a midwife and instructed that they, as well as Atticus, leave the room.

"She'll be fine," he assured Atticus through gritted teeth after Atticus had insisted he stayed with her. "She's bleedin' a lot and I need silence." He explained, making Jean even more nervous.

The last thing she could remember was Atticus fearfully looking at her before leaving the room, and the sounds of the baby that she had so longingly waited for.

-o-o-o-

She woke up in her own bed, not in the guestroom where she had been when the baby was born. Groggily (and painfully) she propped herself up on her elbows and looked around the room. No noise came from the bassinet that stood in the corner of the room, and through the blinds she could see the last rays of the sun going down—how long had it been?

She hadn't noticed Atticus next to her until he made a startled noise. Quickly, he rose to his feet and kneeled at the side of the bed. "What—"she began.

"You were just sleepin'. You're fine, you just bled a little too much, but Doctor Reynold's made sure you were _fine_ ," he said smiling, looking relieved. When she opened her mouth again, he quickly added: " _she's_ fine."

"She?"

"Your daughter, Mrs. Finch." A wide smile grew on his face as he kissed her forehead. Nearly grinning, she grabbed his hands, holding them tightly with excitement.

"Is she in there?" She asked, nudging her head towards the bassinet. Again, Atticus rose to his feet and crossed the room. Gently, he reached into the bassinet and she watched as he took out a small bundle from within it. In his arms, the baby made just one little howling noise, making Jean nearly burst with anticipation. Carefully, he came back to his wife, resting the baby in her open arms.

The first thing she noticed, besides the pink round face of her daughter, was the large tuft of jet black hair on top of her head. Her breath got caught in her throat as she looked at the baby— _her_ baby—who had fallen back asleep after her brief interruption. Tenderly, she brushed her fingers through the soft patch of hair, grinning at the fact that she finally had her baby.

At first she had been nervous about whether or not she'd love this baby less than Jeremy, that she had expended so much of her love to her first born that she just wouldn't have the same amount for _her_ , this precious little girl that rested in her arms. However, from the moment she looked down at her daughters delicate features, she knew that wasn't the case. How lucky she was, she thought, to have the _two_ most perfect children in the world. "She looks like a doll," she chuckled, brushing the tip of her finger on the baby's rosy cheek. Beneath her skin, Jean could feel the baby's face twitch ever so slightly before she let out a large yawn.

Atticus laughed, kneeling down besides his wife once again. "I showed her to Jeremy," he informed her.

"When we were waitin' for Doctor Reynold's to come out, and he said the same thing."

"Did he like her?" She asked eagerly, still a bit nervous about how her son would react to his sister. "Was he gentle?"

"He'd only hold her if he was in your mother's lap," he responded. "And it was fine until she opened her mouth—he was scared because she didn't have teeth. He firmly informed me that he believed she was just fine, but she would take some gettin' used to."

Still looking down at the baby, Jean laughed. For a brief moment the baby's eyes opened, making Jean's smile grow even wider. "With how serious he is, I know he'll be a lawyer just like you," she responded. "But do you reckon he'll be alright with her?"

"I think he loved her more than he let on," Atticus smiled. "What's there not to love about her?" He added, gently smoothing the baby's hair to one side with his thumb.

"She needs a name," Jean informed him.

"She's got one." He responded quickly.

Furrowing her brow, Jean finally brought her attention to her husband. "What do you mean?" She asked.

"I named her," he explained.

" _You_ named her?" She asked.

"That's what I said," he told her, a big smile still on his face. "From the moment I saw her, I knew what her name would be."

"I didn't realize you had become clairvoyant…" She said teasingly. "Well, what is it?"

"Jean Louise," He smiled.

" _What_?"

"What's the matter with it?"

"You named her _Jean_?"

"Don't worry, it's not as though I named her Eugenia," he teased, causing her to scowl.

"Please tell me you're jokin'." She asked as the baby made another little howl. "You've named her _Jean_."

"Jean Louise—that's what's on her birth certificate." He said. "I think it's a very fittin' name."

She felt her face flush as she looked down at the baby and then back at her husband. "Jean?" She asked again.

"Jean Louise," he repeated, looking down at the baby once again. "I think it's a beautiful name for a beautiful little girl."

"I hope you know you've cursed her," Jean responded, holding the baby closer to her. "She's _never_ going to be the little lady Alexandra expects her to be."

Atticus shrugged. "Given who her mother is, I didn't expect that anyway." He replied jokingly.

She rolled her eyes. "You're lucky I love you," she warned playfully.

"That I am," he said before kissing her.

-o-o-o-

Jean had thought that after Jean Louise was born (she knew she was going to have to find a nickname for that poor girl soon), that she would be able to _finally_ get out of bed. However, Doctor Reynolds told her that she needed to rest for at least two more weeks, meaning that she was still trapped. Now that she finally had her daughter, all she wanted was for life to go back to normal.

While she had at first been overwhelmed by the presence of her family, she was infinitely grateful for them once Jean Louise was born. Her mother, sisters, and sister-in-law all ensured that life for Jeremy and the baby would be as normal as possible until Jean was finally able to get back to her usual self. Also, Atticus was able to take the two weeks off from the office in order to help Jeremy transition to the new baby and all of the excitement that was going on.

In the days following Jean Louise's birth, Jean's activities were mainly comprised of being in bed with Jeremy and the baby until either of them needed to be bathed, put to sleep, or fed. While she was able to nurse Jean Louise from bed, she couldn't help but to feel guilty that she still wasn't able to eat meals with Jeremy like she usually had done. She grew fearful that her son would grow to resent her or the baby, and was anxious over the possibility of him feeling left out. However, just four days after Jean Louise's birth, Jeremy silently tiptoed into his parent's room early in the morning with one of his stuffed toys and a book, anxiously waiting for his sister to wake up. Despite the fact that he was anxiously awaiting the day where his sister would be able to actually play with him, he seemed to like her just fine as she was.

In between making sure the house was tidy and that Jean and Atticus had enough meals prepared for when they would leave, Jean's mother and sisters would spend _hours_ in her room with her, playing with Jeremy and Jean Louise, and making Jean forget that she was still unable to do many of the things she usually did. Now more than ever, she appreciated their presence, because they were able to bring back a sense of normalcy that Jean hadn't felt in so long.

A week had passed and other family members, neighbors and friends came in and out of the Finch household to see Jean and the baby. Jack had called from Tennessee, saying that he dropped everything he was doing once he found out the baby was born, and would come once everything settled down. Caroline called from Mobile, nearly crying at the fact that she _finally_ had a niece, saying that she and Ruth would come as soon as they could. Yet, Jean barely saw Alexandra, despite the fact that the woman was staying in her house.

Edith had explained that in addition to some household duties, Alexandra had offered to help Atticus with the work that he had brought home, so that he could spend more time with his family. Jean couldn't help but to think it odd that her sister-in-law, who was usually so overbearing, was hardly making herself seen at all. That was until Alexandra _finally_ made her presence known exactly a week after Jean Louise was born.

"May I hold her?" Her sister-in-law asked, sitting on the side of Jean's bed. Jean had just finished nursing the baby, who was now drowsy from eating so much. Gingerly, she placed Jean Louise into Alexandra's hands, who stared down at her niece in silence.

Despite the fact that Jean wanted to murder Alexandra most of the time, she could not deny that the woman was incredibly good with her children. From the moment Jeremy had been born, Alexandra was _always_ willing to help with them. Despite the fact that she always had a serious demeanor and was never known to act silly with children, she definitely had a calming effect to her.

"She's a _beautiful_ girl," Alexandra said silently, not looking up from the sleeping baby.

"She is," Jean nearly gushed as she observed her daughter.

"I never thought I'd see this hair again." Alexandra added, chuckling sadly to herself. Now, Jean was curious. She had always assumed that her daughter inherited her dark locks from Atticus, yet she couldn't help but to notice it was even slightly darker than his.

"Whose hair is it?" Jean asked inquisitively.

"My mother's," Alexandra responded, finally looking at Jean. Despite the fact that she had a small smile on her face, Jean couldn't help but to notice that Alexandra looked sad. At that moment, Jean realized that she couldn't recall a moment when Alexandra mentioned her mother. "She's too little to tell just yet, but I think she has some of my mother's facial features."

Jean found that in the current state of shock she was in over Alexandra actually disclosing something personal with her, all she could do was smile. "I hope she'll have her hair," Alexandra admitted, running her fingers through Jean Louise's hair in such a way that the baby hadn't even noticed she was being touched. "It was beautiful—it wasn't curly like mine and Caroline's—it was as straight as a board. She had straight, thick black hair that always looked so _perfect_." Alexandra chuckled again, and Jean couldn't help but to think that her sister-in-law simply wanted to cry as she talked about her mother. "She would let me brush it sometimes before she passed and I always remember wishin' that if I ever had a daughter that she would have my mama's hair… I hope Jean Louise gets it." She smiled at Jean, a true smile, and Jean couldn't help but to think that maybe Alexandra _was_ human after all.

"I hope she does, too." Jean responded truthfully, smiling back at her sister-in-law.

"I think she'd _love_ your babies," Alexandra admitted, smiling back down at Jean Louise. "I think my mother would absolutely love them, I know I do very much."

Jean's smile grew, almost as if she didn't have control of herself. "Zandra?" She asked, using the family nickname that she had never used before.

"Yes?" The other woman asked, her smile fading ever so slightly.

"Thank you," Jean said slowly. She almost wanted to grab her hands, like she would have done to Louise or Harriet, but then she remembered that this woman still was Alexandra, and that she couldn't do anything _too_ brash.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: I've really surprised myself with how quickly I've been updating (even though this is just a fluffy lil thing with not a lot of substance)… my semester starts Tuesday so I probably won't be as quick. After this chapter there's probably just going to be three more and it'll be done, so hopefully it won't take me _too_ long to update!

-o-o-o-

From the moment she was born, Jean Louise Finch was a very happy and excitable baby. Soon after her daughter arrived, Jean realized that the little girl seemed to love _everything_. Unlike Jeremy, who _always_ had to be held by his mama, Jean Louise was perfectly content in the arms of _anyone_. Once she was secured with someone, she'd simply stare at them, as if she was absorbing every possible detail about the other person.

At first, Jeremy had been wary about the little human that now occupied the same house as him, and grew nervous every time his little sister cried. Despite the fact that Jean Louise was still so young, it seemed as if she just _knew_ that he was her brother, and would often stare at him for long periods of time, even if Jeremy was clear across the room. Atticus, who had almost formed an instantaneous bond with his daughter, explained to their son that even though the baby was still so small, she looked up to Jeremy a great deal. Jeremy, who always looked at his daddy as though he was a hero, took that as a great honor and adopted a new sense of duty towards his baby sister.

It wasn't until Jean Louise was nearly three months old that Louise left Maycomb, meaning that she had been there for nearly five months. Instead of returning to Montgomery, she was going back to Phil, a thought that neither Jean nor Louise seemed too excited about. Throughout her visit, Louise often had lengthy phone conversations with Phil as well as his brother, and each time she hung up she seemed completely resigned. Jean made sure to never listen in on what her sister was talking about, and never pestered her afterwards, but couldn't help but to always wonder what was leaving Louise feeling so upset. Though Louise didn't say anything, Jean knew she didn't want to leave the cozy life they all had in Maycomb after the baby was born. Yet, both sisters knew that's what needed to be done. The two sisters nearly cried as they bade farewell at Maycomb Junction, and a part of Jean couldn't help but to constantly worry for her sister throughout the three months that followed her departure.

Jean Louise was now six months old, and Jean was _still_ looking for something else to call her besides _Jean_. For as long as she could remember, Jean _detested_ her name. She reckoned that Jean Louise was far better than Eugenia, and sounded prettier than Jean did on its own, but she wanted something different to call her baby girl—something that would be all her own. Frequently, as she rocked the baby to sleep, she thought about what would be most fitting for the most beautiful girl she'd ever laid her eyes on.

"I have to go to Montgomery for a week," Atticus said softly as he entered Jean Louise's nursery one Thursday evening. While Jean Louise was a pleasant baby, the one thing she _couldn't_ stand was going to sleep. If Jean didn't rock her at night, the baby would tearfully babble in her crib until one of her parents cracked and brought her into bed with them. Some mothers would've complained at having such a restless baby, but Jean felt so lucky just to have Jean Louise that she took joy in rocking her to bed for nearly an hour and a half every single night.

"When?" Jean whispered, adjusting her arm ever so slightly so that the baby's head was in a more comfortable position.

"Sunday, after mass." He told her—Sunday was only three days away. "I just got a call saying there was an emergency session of the legislature bein' called."

"For bein' a part of the government, they've never been too punctual." She sneered, flashing him a quick smirk. "I can get your suits pressed for you tomorrow."

Atticus looked from her and the sleeping baby in her arms. "I can tell them I can't go," he said after a few moments.

"Sweet, how can you represent Maycomb if you're not there?" She asked. "Is somethin' botherin' you there?"

Quickly, he shook his head. "I was just suggestin' it, you haven't been alone with both children before." He responded. "I don't want you feelin' overwhelmed."

"I have Cal, and if I'm _that_ desperate, I can call Alexandra." She replied, rolling her eyes. "You've been gone for longer stretches of time, and I've been just fine before." She stood up slowly, careful not to wake the baby, and gently put Jean Louise in her crib.

"You're right, I apologize for underestimating you, Mrs. Finch." He replied jokingly as the two of them slipped out of the nursey.

"There is one problem, though," she said contemplatively as Atticus wrapped his arm around her waist.

"And what is that?"

"I reckon I miss you a little when you're gone," she replied seriously. "Only a little, though."

-o-o-o-

A few months after Jean Louise was born, Jean was thankful that a new family routine quickly fell into place. After Atticus would return home from his office he would have time to play and read with both children until supper was ready, in which Jean usually fed the baby from her chair while Atticus and Jeremy ate their meals. Since the baby was born Jean couldn't recall the last time she had had a hot meal, but that _never_ bothered her. She'd rather hold and feed her babies than be able to have a hot supper. After dinner, Jean and Atticus alternated between who would read with Jeremy while Jean Louise got her bath, after which began the long process of ensuring that the baby stayed asleep. Finally, Jean and Atticus would both tuck Jeremy in and retire to their own room. With the baby having such a difficult time falling asleep, the process seemed to be arduous, but Jean knew that once this routine was over that she would miss it.

"Did Jeremy seem a little congested to you?" Jean asked as the two of them finally settled into bed for the evening.

"He sounded fine, but I would give him somethin' in the morning just in case." Her husband replied, closing the book that had been lying open on his lap. "I have a proposition for you,"

"If it involves me takin' my nightgown off, I am too comfortable now," she retorted quickly, causing him to give her a look.

"No," he said slowly, trying not to laugh. "However, now that you've—"

"Shush and tell me what you've got to say."

"How about I take Jeremy with me?"

"Where?"

"To Montgomery,"

"For a week?" She asked, unsure as to why she was as surprised as she was.

"Yes," he replied. "I can take him with me, I won't be able to take him to the actual sessions with me but if your mother or one of your aunts wouldn't mind watchin' him while I'm gone I can take care of him the rest of the time."

"You're tellin' me you want to take my baby away from me for a whole week?" She asked again. "He's never been away from me before!"

"Just hear me out," he requested. "I think it would be somethin' special for him. I can introduce him to some of the people in the legislature with me and make him feel like he's workin' with me—you let him go to the office with me and he loves it."

"The office is ten minutes away," she pointed out. "Montgomery isn't that close!"

"I think he'd be fine," Atticus persisted. "I think he'd enjoy himself."

"I _know_ he'd be fine," she admitted. Part of her felt slightly ashamed because _that_ was the reason she was growing more flustered—the fact that her baby would be fine spending a whole week without her. "I just—"

"I was just suggestin' it, sweet." He said, kissing her temple. "You don't have to say yes."

"I think it'd be _good_ ," she said, feeling slightly guilty. "I just—I've never been away from him before!"

"Every time I go to Montgomery I've always missed you and Jeremy immensely," he told her. Even though it wasn't his intention to make her feel worse, she couldn't help but to feel even guiltier than she already had. "And I figured that since it's the first time I'm leavin' Jean Louise and I'll miss her just as much, I could take Jeremy so I have a little bit of home—"

"Take him," Jean said quickly, kissing her husband's cheek. "You should take him."

"Are you sure?" He asked as she rested her head on his shoulder. "If you're not comfortable with—"

"You're his father, you basically walk on water to him." She responded. "I think you should take him."

"I appreciate it," he responded, kissing her forehead. "Now, you mentioned something about taking your nightgown off…"

She rolled her eyes. "After what you just put me through, no way." She smirked.

-o-o-o-

The next morning, Jean had promptly informed Jeremy that he would be accompanying Atticus to Montgomery for the week. Part of her wanted him to be as wary about leaving his mother, just as she had been the previous night, but could hardly be surprised when the little boy's face light up with excitement.

"Really, mama?!" He had asked, nearly screeching.

"Yes, baby." She responded, trying not to laugh. His excitement, paired with his wrinkled pajamas and bed head was quite the sight. "Your daddy wants to take you to the legislature with him, just like he takes you to his office."

"I need to bring my Sunday clothes." He said seriously. Despite the fact that Jeremy looked the most like her, certain expressions reminded her of Atticus—especially when the boy was being as serious as he was. "I gotta look nice like he does."

"You sure do," she agreed, attempting to smooth out his hair with her hands.

"Is baby comin'?" He asked eagerly. Ever since she was born, Jeremy had almost exclusively referred to his little sister as 'baby'.

"No, sweet, it's just you and your daddy." She told him. "Your sister and I will be here with Cal."

Now, Jeremy looked concerned. As he looked at her with a serious expression on his face, Jean couldn't help but to realize exactly how _fast_ time was going by. Her four-year-old son looked as though he was a little man! Jean couldn't help but to wonder how and when that happened. "Well, will she be alright?"

"Will who be alright?"

"Baby!"

Jean held back yet another bout of laughter. "Honey, she'll be with me, of course she'll be alright."

"But she _likes_ me, y'know."

"Of course I know that."

"Will she miss me?"

"I think so, but you're comin' back so she won't be missin' you for too long."

"How will she know I'm comin' back?" He asked seriously. "She's just a baby, so she might think that Att'cus and I are never comin' back!"

"She'll know you're comin' back because we'll tell her," Jean responded.

"What if she don't remember me when I come back?"

"Are you silly? Of course she will!" Jean exclaimed. "You're one of her most favorite people on earth, buddy."

"You promise?"

"I promise a million times over."

"Good," Jeremy responded, a small smile creeping back onto his face. "Because I _really_ want to go with Att'cus!"

-o-o-o-

It seemed as though Jean blinked her eyes and Sunday was already there. She hadn't exactly been dreading the day, but she still felt a pang of sadness as she watched Jeremy and Atticus leave. She had gotten used to Atticus needing to leave for extended periods of time due to the legislature, and missing him while he was gone became less painful as time wore on. However, Jeremy had _never_ been gone from her for that long before, and she wasn't sure how she was going to handle not having her first-born there with her for an entire _week_.

"It's just you and me, baby," Jean had told her babbling daughter after Atticus and Jeremy had left. With Cal not working on Sundays, the house was oddly still with just her and Jean Louise. She couldn't help but to feel strange. Of course, Atticus had gone to Montgomery many times when Jeremy was a baby, leaving her and her son in the same situation she and Jean Louise were in, but this time it was different. This time, exactly half of her little family was missing. While she was selfishly excited by the fact that she'd be spending a copious amount of time with her daughter alone, she couldn't help but to wonder how Jeremy was doing without her.

Then, she realized, this would not be the _only_ time Jeremy would spend time apart from her. Soon enough he'll begin school and officially not be her baby anymore (though deep in her heart she knew that Jeremy would _always_ be her baby), and this was just the first step in him growing up. From this point forward he was just going to continue to grow up, and soon enough he would be almost completely fine without her.

 _That's a long time away_ , she told herself adamantly as she played with Jean Louise in the nursery. _Jeremy's still going to need you for a long time_. She couldn't help but to feel sad that her baby was getting old, getting more independent.

Jean's nervous thoughts subsided and she continued on with the baby's normal daily routine with relative ease. However, just as she was about to go rock Jean Louise to sleep, the telephone rang. Quickly, with Jean Louise tightly bundled in one of her arms, she rushed towards the phone.

"Finch residence," she said softly, watching Jean Louise's eyes flutter with tiredness.

"You've got a call from Montgomery, ma'am," the operator said before quickly transferring the line.

"Hello?" She asked.

"Jeremy—"Atticus began before she cut him off.

"Is he okay?" She asked quickly. "Is there somethin' wrong?"

"He's just fine," Atticus responded. "He's had a great day—he just wanted to call to make sure _you_ were okay."

"Me?"

"He was afraid you and Jean Louise felt left out," he explained. "He's been quite worried the two of you were lonely."

"Where is he?" Jean asked eagerly, and instead of saying anything Atticus handed the phone to their son.

"Mama?" Jeremy asked.

"Hi sweet," she gushed. "I heard you had a good day."

"I did!" He exclaimed.

"Is daddy behavin'?" She asked seriously.

"Mama," he giggled. Jean could imagine his little cheeks turning red with laughter. "Att'cus _always_ behaves!"

She heard Atticus say something to Jeremy on the other line, though she couldn't quite make out what it was. "He said that he's worried about _you_ not behavin'."

"He's silly," she replied, laughing along with her son.

"Is baby okay?"

"Mm-hmm, she's just about to go to sleep."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes I am, baby. Are you okay?"

"Yes, mama," he replied cheerfully. "Do you miss me?"

"Of course I do!"

"I miss _you_."

"Are you glad you're with daddy, though?"

"Mm-hmm! He told me I was a little man." He replied, a hint of laughter in his voice.

"Well that you are, sir." She responded seriously, causing him to giggle once again.

"Mama, I love you!"

"I love you too, baby." She said happily. He may be growing up, but at least he'd always love her, she thought to herself.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: I started this chapter last week, but naturally my semester started and that (with a combination of some other stressfully annoying things) threw me off my groove a little. I kind of rushed the ending because I honestly had forgotten where I wanted to take this, so I'm incredibly sorry if it is a hot mess (like I am right now). I already have the very last chapter written, but there's going to be one in between this and that one that I still need to write, so I'm *praying* I don't mess that one up and have it posted soon!

-o-o-o-

It didn't take long for Jean to realize that her daughter was her rebel child.

From the moment the little girl was even slightly mobile, she was getting into anything and everything she could get her hands on. If she was not under constant surveillance, Jean Louise Finch would surely find herself in some sort of trouble, leaving both of her parents quite baffled as to how exactly their daughter had gotten into the position she was in. Finally, it was her curious nature that caused Jean's mother to give her youngest grandchild the nickname Scout, justifying that the girl always seemed to be searching for something. Ever since then, the nickname stuck. It was as if Scout, barely a year old, knew what the nickname meant, because every time someone called her Scout the young girl would look incredibly pleased with herself.

Jeremy, thanks to his sister, now had a new nickname as well – Jem. At first, when Scout was calling for "Jemmy" at bedtime both Atticus and Jean were unsure as to what exactly she wanted. It wasn't until Jeremy, eyes groggy with sleep and hair askew, burst into his sister's nursery and declared that she was calling out his name. He had been quite pleased that his sister had wanted _him_ and had learned his name before she even called out for her mama or daddy. Jeremy took quite a liking to the nickname his sister gave him, and soon it spread throughout his entire family.

Jean knew, however, that one day her daughter's curious nature would get the best of her.

And she was right. Just a week shy of her baby's first birthday, Jean Louise needed to get stitches for the first time.

After Atticus had left for work Jean had allowed the children to play outside together. Usually, she would quarantine both children indoors since it would get so dangerously hot outside, but since it was still cool that morning Jean decided to let them enjoy a few moments outdoors until they were forced to go inside again. As she washed the dishes, she listened joyfully to the sound of her children's laughter. However, after what seemed to have been a split second, Jeremy was screaming for his mother.

In her rush to get outside, she broke the plate in which she was washing and hastily rinsed her soapy hands with scorching hot water. When she came outside she saw that Jeremy had splotches of blood on the front of his shirt, she thought she'd nearly have a heart attack. He was wrangling Scout, whose back was facing her mother. "What happened to you, baby?" She nearly screamed, running to get to him.

"It ain't _me_ , mama," he hiccupped, a look of sheer horror on his little face. "Mama, I _tried_ to stop her—I told her not to do it!"

Jean Louise let out a howl of frustration at her older brother, who was continuing to hold her back from whatever she was doing. Quickly, Jean took the baby in her arms and faced Scout towards her. There had been a ghastly cut above her eyebrow, and blood was trickling down the side of her head. "It's okay baby," she said to both of her children (though Scout hadn't seemed to care about her injury). Jeremy's lower lip quivered as she heard Cal come out of the back door.

"Mama, I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I _tried_ to stop her."

"Baby, it's _okay_ ," she said soothingly, despite the fact that her heart was pounding so hard she thought she could hear it. "I'm just goin' to clean her up and we're gonna give the doctor a call and she'll be just _fine_."

-o-o-o-

Scout's injury looked far worse before it was cleaned up—she only needed two little stitches on her head to keep it from opening up. However, due to her daughter's knack of mischief, Doctor Reynolds was sure to pad it more than he usually would, knowing that she would probably knock into something with it. He had told Jean that far worse could happen, and that she shouldn't be too concerned.

Yet, she was.

She couldn't deny that when she saw the blood on her son's shirt, her thoughts instantly gravitated back towards that dreaded day when Simon died. The image of his lifeless body flashed in her mind as she held her wriggling daughter in her lap, trying to keep her still for the doctor. She remembered Clara screaming—much like Jem had done when his sister was injured—and felt as though her heart was now in her throat.

"All set," Doctor Reynolds said, securing a little bit more gauze on Scout's head. "You look as good as new!"

Scout, who had once been screeching with impatience, was now laughing at the doctor. "Are you alright, Mrs. Finch?" He asked in a more serious tone, making her sit up a little straighter.

"Of course I am!" She quickly replied, her voice nearly a squeak. "It was just a little fright, I appreciate you comin' out here so quick."

"I mean your _hands_ ," he added. "It looks as though you've burned them."

Quickly, Jean looked down at both of her hands. Small blisters began to cover the small stretch of skin on the back of her hand between her thumb and her index finger. The water she used to rinse her hands must've been hotter than she realized. "It's nothin'," she said, slightly embarrassed. "I just used water that was too hot, that's all."

He flashed her a sympathetic smile. "Mother's often forget to take care of themselves when something happens to their children," he noted. "Just put some cortisone on it and you'll fare just fine."

Jean thanked him once again before she walked him to the door and bade him farewell. Scout gently pulled at her mother's hair as she hoisted the baby on her hip and went to look for Jem, who had hidden in the back of the house with Cal until Jean Louise was all patched up. "Look who's just fine!" Jean declared as she stood in the doorway of the sunroom. Scout, who was quite pleased with the attention she was receiving, clapped her hands together. Cal couldn't help but to laugh at the sight of the overly-gauzed baby while Jeremy had a look of pure relief on his face.

"Jemmy!" Scout called, reaching her chubby arms out for her brother. Hurriedly, Jem jumped up from where he was sitting and approached his sister, who began pulling at his hair.

"She seems like normal, mama." Jem said happily. "She doesn't even act like it hurts or nothin'."

"You're right, sweet," she smiled back at him. "She probably was more upset that she had to sit still!" She approached Cal and put the baby on the floor, who immediately began crawling for the nearest exit (only to be quickly stopped by Cal). "I'm goin' to phone Atticus, to let him know what happened." She explained. "You wouldn't mind watchin' them?"

"Of course not, ma'am," Cal smiled. "I get all my excitement from these two!"

Despite the fact that everything was fine, Jean still felt unsettled. Sighing, she picked up the phone and requested to be transferred to Atticus' office. While she waited, she couldn't help but to think that things could've gone far, _far_ worse.

"Finch," said her husband's deep voice. He sounded tired to her, and she debated whether or not she should even worry him at this point since Scout was now fine.

"Your daughter," she began, trying to make light of what she was feeling. "Will certainly be the death of me."

A small chuckle came from the other end. "And why is that, sweet?"

"I think she's decided she wants to be in a circus or somethin', she jumped from the top of our steps and cut her head—she needed _two_ stitches!" She exclaimed, her nervousness getting the best of her.

"Is she patched up?"

"Yes."

"Is she actin' normally?"

"Yes."

"Then she's _fine_ ," he assured her. "Sweet, don't get yourself worked up."

"I'm _not_ worked up!"

"Baby, your voice is at the same high pitch it gets whenever you're near Katrina," he pointed out. "You _are_ worked up."

"There was a lot of blood," she said defensively. "I—I—"

"You just need to take a minute," he said. "Things probably happened really fast."

"I just heard Jeremy screamin'," she sighed, covering her mouth with her free hand. It wasn't until now that she realized just how itchy her hands were in the areas that were burned, but that was nothing in comparison to the gash on her daughter's head. "I-I just thought that the worst—"

"I understand," he replied warmly, making her feel slightly better. "You can't be this hard on yourself, sweet. You'll drive yourself into a nervous breakdown."

"I'm fine." She affirmed. "And Scout's fine and Jeremy's not so traumatized—"

"Sweet, just don't think about it anymore—I'm sure your heart will burst from all of this worryin'." He said, and she could imagine him sitting at his desk, smirking.

-o-o-o-

"I know what you're thinking about," Atticus said slowly, examining his wife as she brushed her hair at the mirror in their bedroom. Despite the fact that Jean said she was fine, Atticus ended up coming home from the office early. He insisted that he had gotten his work finished early that day and therefore was able to come home, but part of her didn't quite believe him. Despite the fact that she appreciated him being so willing to come home early, she secretly hoped he felt silly for thinking that she was on the verge of a mental breakdown or something—the entire evening was normal (with the exception of Scout's bandaged forehead) and progressed as it usually did.

"We've been married for nearly seven years, and you're just now tellin' me you're psychic?" She asked playfully, her eyes meeting his through the reflection of the mirror. "Why, I did _not_ see that comin'."

"Come _here_ ," he said seriously, patting the empty space in the bed next to him. "You've been fidgety all day."

Rolling her eyes, she made her way to him. "Have not," she replied, sliding under the duvet. "I've just had a lot to do."

He placed his hand on top of hers, gently rubbing the area she had burned earlier. "I'm goin' to say somethin'," he said slowly. "But I don't want you gettin' upset."

She gazed at him with a perplexed look on her face, but before she could say anything he began talking again. "I know what happened today upset you," he remarked. "But you can't compare it to what happened before, and you can't convince yourself that it's going to happen again. What happened to Simon all those years ago—"

"I'm not comparing this to Simon," she said quickly, even though she did. She couldn't help but to think that if something had gone wrong today, she'd be in the same position she had been in before…

Silently, he ran his thumb against her knuckles, as though he was debating what he should say next. She felt tense as the image of Jean Louise with all of that blood trickling down her face filled her mind again. "I know you do," he finally said, bringing her hand up so he could kiss it. "But you _shouldn't_."

A lump formed in her throat and every time she tried to say something it was as though the words couldn't find their way out. "Sweet," he said firmly. "You've _never_ done a thing wrong."

But she had. She had let Scout and Jem play outside alone, just as she had let Clara and Simon all of those years ago. She should've learned from that, she thought to herself. She should've learned to _never_ let her children play outside without her near them. No matter how much she trusted them, something could always go wrong. She had gotten too comfortable, things had gotten so easy for her that she didn't even _think_ that Jean Louise would do something that Jeremy wouldn't be able to control. He was only five, for Christ's sake—what had made her think that her lively one-year-old wouldn't get into any trouble?

"But I _did_ ," she finally whispered, finding herself unable to look at Atticus, a sudden sense of shame filling her. She wasn't sure if she was ashamed by the fact that she was upset over looking like such a fool, or for what she had done. "I shouldn't have…I should've been out there—"

"Somethin' could've happened even if you _were_ out there," he assured her. "Sweet—this is just something that happens. Children get hurt—"

"Simon _died_."

"And it wasn't your fault," he said firmly, his grasp on her hand becoming slightly tighter. "It still could've happened if you were out there."

"I don't wanna talk about this," she said, her voice cracking ever so slightly. "I can't—"

"I'm _sorry_ ," he whispered, and she knew he meant it. He let go of her hand and instead pulled her closer to him. "I didn't mean to upset you," he murmured into her hair. "I just wanted…you needed to know that it's _not_ your fault."

A small smile found its way on her face as she pressed her head against his chest. Despite the fact that Simon and what _could've_ happened to Scout was still firmly engrained in her mind, she found that her anxiety was slowly dissipating. Simon would always lurk in the back of her mind, willing to come back at any moment where she was most vulnerable, but she still felt _lucky_ , as if she had just been pushed away from a moving automobile or saved from a freak accident. What happened to Scout could've been worse, yet it wasn't. In fact, compared to what could've happened, the events that happened earlier almost seemed like nothing in comparison. From the moment she was born, Jean always saw Jean Louise as some sort of miracle—and maybe she was right.


	19. Chapter 19

"Atticus, if you don't hurry we're goin' to be late!" Jean called from Jem's room as she smoothed his hair out with a wet comb, making the nearly six-year-old boy squirm. He _hated_ getting dressed by his mother, but seeing as it was yet another Finch family reunion, Jean knew if her children didn't look like the epitome of perfection, Alexandra would surely be fuming. "Jeremy we're doin' this so Aunty doesn't get mad," she said in a hushed tone. "You know how scary she gets."

"Sweet, she doesn't want to wear the dress!" Atticus, who was tasked with getting Jean Louise ready, called from the nursery. "Every time I try to pull it over her head she won't let me."

"Are you intimidated by a two year old?" She asked, a hint of impatience in her tone. Not only did Alexandra _detest_ the way Jean mothered her children, but it also seemed as though the woman took personal joy in chastising Jean for any small misdemeanor—especially being late. Sighing, Jean examined her son. "Well, Jeremy's ready so you just pack him in the car and I'll handle her."

"Go to your daddy," she added to Jem, who seemed to be highly amused by how flustered his mother was. "Aunty's gonna kill me one of these days."

As she exited Jem's bedroom she heard her daughter's wails coming from the nursery, and saw Atticus hurriedly making his way towards Jeremy's room with a look of guilt on his face. Scout was now at the age where whenever one of her parents left her sight she became convinced they were leaving her behind. "I should've waited for you," he murmured as she quickly pushed past him in order to convince Jean Louise that she wasn't alone. Wrangling her already upset toddler into her dress was bound to be an adventure.

"Baby," Jean said soothingly as she stuck her head in the doorway. Jean Louise, in nothing but her diaper and bloomers, stood in her crib—her black hair askew and her dark eyes wide with terror, tears sliding down her pink cheeks. When she saw her mother, her arms immediately reached out for her as her chest puffed in and out with tiny, muffled sobs. "Did you think we left you?"

"Mama," she hiccupped as Jean quickly crossed the room and lifted Scout out of the crib. Instantaneously, Jean Louise buried her tear stained face into her mother's neck. After the baby (though soon enough she wouldn't even be considered a baby anymore) calmed herself, Jean placed her on top of the changing table and picked up the frilly lavender dress that Alexandra had bought Jean Louise the last time she had visited. It reminded Jean of Little Bo Peep and from the moment she laid eyes on the dress she knew Scout was going to hate it.

"Alright," Jean said slowly, gently picking the dress up. "We're gonna get you all dressed and lookin' like a China doll so Aunty has one less of a reason to want to kill mama," Scout, the moment she saw the dress in her mama's hands, shook her head.

"No," she said, her lower lip growing into a pout again.

"I know it's hideous," she said, preparing the dress so it would be easy to slide over Scout's head. "But I'm afraid society has _always_ wanted ladies to make a fool of themselves."

Jean Louse gave her mother a blank stare before shaking her head again. "No, mama."

From outside, she heard Atticus honk the car horn, making her want to kill him. He and Jem wouldn't even be in the car if she hadn't offered to dress Jean Louise. Sighing, she looked from the dress to her daughter before wincing to herself. "I'm sorry, baby," she said softly as she quickly put the dress over Scout's head. Naturally, the toddler began wailing once again, fighting to prevent herself from fully getting into the dress. She hadn't known how she had done it, but after what seemed to be an hour (full with tiny scratches on her hands from Scout's tiny, sharp nails) a sulking Scout was consumed in the poofy dressed that looked even worse on her than it did on the hanger. "We'll take this off of you as soon as we can," she assured Scout, who was not at all comforted by her mother's sentiments.

"Don't want dis," she said, pouting as Jean collected the toddler in her arms and quickly made her way outside. The entire way to the car, Jean Louise huffed and sniffed, hoping her obvious displeasure would change her mother's mind.

She hadn't realized how flustered she was until she finally settled herself in the car, the weepy Jean Louise propped on her lap now refusing to look at either of her parents. "Jemmy," she whimpered, her eyes gravitating to the back of the car where her brother sat.

"Mama, she looks like a purple marshmallow!" Jem said in disbelief as Jean Louise huffed once again. Before either of his parents could say anything, he quickly added. "A _pretty_ marshmallow!"

"Want Jemmy," Jean Louise sniffed as Atticus started the car.

"You have to stay with me," Jean said, as Scout's eyes began welling with tears once more. Quickly, she flashed Atticus a look of desperation. In response, he shrugged his shoulders. "She'll get over it," he mouthed to her as the baby buried her face in her mother's chest, her little tears leaving wet marks on her dress. Silently, Jean vowed that she wouldn't try hard to be a lady today—Alexandra certainly deserved it.

-o-o-o-

"Atticus," Jem called out from the back as they were halfway towards the Landing. At this point, Jean Louise had so tired herself out from her previous theatrics that she was now fast asleep in Jean's lap. "Is Aunt Kiki goin' to be there?" Despite the fact that he was old enough to be able to pronounce Caroline correctly, he still called Atticus' youngest sister by the pet name he developed when he was first learning to speak.

"Yes she is, son." He replied, a hint of a smile on his face. Though he'd never admit it, it was obvious to Jean that Caroline was his favorite sibling. Despite the fact that he maintained good relationships with each of his siblings, he always seemed the most excited whenever Caroline was involved. Jean, of course, couldn't blame him—Caroline possessed the good qualities that Alexandra lacked. "She told me just how excited she was to see you and Scout the other day."

"Good," Jem smiled. "She's not as scary as Aunty." It wasn't until recently that Jean noticed her son never called Alexandra by her name, she was always Aunty. Of course, he would occasionally call Louise and Harriet Aunty as well, but they were more frequently referred to as Aunt Lou and Harriet. She thought that maybe, in his six year old mind, simply calling her Aunty seemed to be more respectful and would also make her seem less intimidating.

Atticus furrowed his brow. "Are you scared of Aunty?" He asked cautiously.

Jem looked like he had regretted what he said. "No, sir." He responded quickly, gazing at his father from the back seat.

Jean turned her head so she was fully looking at her son, and flashed him a smile. "I don't know about you, but _I_ am." Part of her was happy she didn't get a chance to observe Atticus' reaction.

-o-o-o-

"Your children look like they should be in some old time Victorian photograph, where no one ever smiled and it looked like everyone had sticks up their arses," Jack remarked to Jean and Atticus as they sat down at one of the many tables Alexandra had set up on the lawn. Besides the three of them, it was only Caroline and Ruth with them. Alexandra had taken the duty to bring Jeremy, Scout and her three-year-old grandson Francis around to every table to show them off. Alexandra insisted that Jean and Atticus deserved a moment to themselves, but she knew that Alexandra would rather Jean not further taint the Finch family name by showing the rest of the family her "laid-back" mothering techniques.

Both Ruth and Caroline suppressed their laughter. "Uncle Jack," Ruth said, a sheepish grin forming on her face. "You've just described Aunt Alexandra perfectly."

"If you weren't right, I would chastise you for bein' rude." Caroline laughed. "Hell, I probably wouldn't then, either."

"Ha!" Jack exclaimed. "Honestly, Scout looks as though she'd rip that dress off of her if she could."

"She still won't look at us, she feels _that_ betrayed." Jean remarked. "It's as if we've committed a heinous crime against her."

"If only she were older," Caroline said, shaking her head. "Then she'd be able to understand it's all Alexandra's fault."

"She's not _that_ bad," Atticus said, trying to defend his other sister, making Caroline chuckle.

"Honey, look at your son," she remarked. "He's stiff as a board—he looks downright scared of her!"

Atticus frowned, as though this was something that truly bothered him, and Jean couldn't help but to feel bad for him. "He did say you were much less scary than she was earlier," he replied. He tried to make it sound like a joke, but wasn't very successful at it.

Caroline smiled, looking as though she felt quite proud of herself. "I suppose everyone needs a fun aunt and a strict aunt." She said, nudging Atticus with her elbow.

"Look at that Francis," Jack said, shaking his head. "She's got him dressed up like a _sailor_."

"He looks like he's lovin' it, too."

"He's cute," Jean offered, examining the children from afar. Francis seemed to be eating up the attention they were getting, while Scout and Jem remained straight-faced.

"He's got that goin' for him," Caroline replied. "But between his father and his grandmother—"

"Let's not," Atticus interjected, keeping his tone pleasant.

"Sorry," Caroline replied. "He is a very _darling_ boy."

-o-o-o-

Each Finch family reunion was the same. Alexandra always stressed and worried herself over whether she had done everything right and what other members of the family would think of her while the rest of them simply watched in amusement. In the first two years of her marriage before Jeremy was born, Jean couldn't help but to feel terrified of these things. She was paraded from table to table with Alexandra, announced as "Atticus' young wife" rather than Jean. However, she had ultimately come to enjoy the company of the other family members in attendance.

Yet, it wasn't until her children began growing up that she realized just how much _pressure_ there was associated with this event. To Jean, her children were still her babies, and the fact that they looked so miserable as Alexandra showed them off to family members they wouldn't even remember the next year made Jean almost angry. It was as if they were showpieces, not actual humans, born only to be utilized by Alexandra in her quest to show how _refined_ the Finch family was.

She held her feelings to herself, though, not wanting to make Atticus feel even more let down by his sister and the way others perceived her. Though he never said anything about it, Jean knew that the various comments said about Alexandra upset him. Once, after her first Finch reunion, Atticus had explained to Jean that Alexandra hadn't always been the way she was. Sadly, he suspected that the loss of their mother at such a young age caused Alexandra to harden up, to take her responsibilities as the oldest woman in their family far more seriously than she should have.

However, just a few hours later, when her children were no longer being passed from relative to relative, Jean found that she was thoroughly enjoying herself as she watched her children laugh and play with Ruth. Jean Louise, in a final attempt to get herself out of that _dreadful_ dress had grabbed Jack's glass of scotch from the table as she sat in his lap, and poured it all over herself. The dress was not only stained beyond belief, but she reeked of alcohol, making Jack laugh so hard he was nearly gasping for breath. Nearly an hour later, Scout still smelled like a toddler alcoholic, but was instead dressed in one of Francis' undershirt and her bloomers and was the happiest she had been that entire day. Alexandra had been mortified, and Jean couldn't help but to be proud.

"It's a shame what's happenin' with Phil," Jack mumbled as Atticus went to join his children. Jean couldn't help but to be surprised that he even knew what had happened throughout the past year and a half—Louise had been quite good at keeping her personal matters private. Jack must've noticed her look of surprise, because he quickly added: "I don't think she wanted to tell me, but I got it out of her."

She couldn't help but to laugh at the sight of her husband jogging along with their children. Slowly, she took her eyes off of them, the smile still faint on her face and asked: "You're good friends, aren't you?"

He smirked, his eyes shining. "She's a crazy broad, but I suppose so."

"Probably because you two are one in the same." Jean pointed out.

His expression grew more serious, though his eyes still had their usual light-heartedness to them. "She's my best friend," he said matter-of-factly. "I wish things worked out differently for her."

"She's lucky to have you as a friend," Jean said, smiling at him.

"Ha! I'll tell her you said that next time I talk to her," he grinned. "It'll make her skin crawl."

Jean rolled her eyes. "You're a devil, you know that?"

"Honey, for the first five years of my life I thought my name was devil." He replied sarcastically, making her chuckle as Caroline and Alexandra approached the table they were sitting at.

It was now slightly after dusk. Nearly all of the extended family members, with the exception of the few cousins who were spending the night, had left. Francis had long since fallen asleep, and Jean and Caroline assisted Alexandra in clearing up most of the mess that had been made. Despite the fact that things were orderly, Alexandra still seemed high-strung, which wasn't surprising.

"They'll sleep good tonight," Caroline remarked as she sat next to her sister-in-law. "Heck, I'm surprised they're still goin'."

"They're full of energy all of the time," Jean remarked, laughing to herself. "If we gave Scout the chance, she'd run about all day and night."

From Alexandra's expression, it seemed as though she wanted to say something about how Jean shouldn't be calling her daughter by that silly nickname, and how it already seemed as though she let her children run rampant. However, as she watched her children happily play, she did not care one bit about what her oldest sister-in-law was thinking.

"I can't believe how big they are," Caroline remarked. "Time goes by so fast, I mean in just a few months Jeremy'll be startin' _school_."

"I can't even talk about that," Jean honestly replied. "The mere thought of it almost makes me sad!"

It seemed as though very rapidly, her life was changing. It had been nearly _thirteen_ years since she had met Atticus, and ever since then it just seemed as though her life was going through brisk progressions. Sometimes she thought that if she simply _blinked_ her eyes years would pass and Jeremy and Jean Louise would both be out of school and leaving her. Jem's entrance into school this upcoming year would mark the first of many occasions in which he'd be leaving her, and she wasn't sure if she'd ever be prepared for it. What made it worse was that soon enough Scout would be joining her brother at school and it'd be her and Cal on their own while her husband and children were gone. Soon enough she'd have to find a hobby or something to keep her from going crazy while spending so much time alone. She had wanted and waited for her children for so long that she didn't think it was fair that they were growing up so fast, that time was moving so fast.

"I cried the entire mornin' Ruth went to school for the first time," Caroline informed Jean. "But after a little while you see how good they're doin' and realize that they'll _always_ need you. Ruthie's nearly twenty now and we're still close as ever. Your children will _always_ be close to you."

That, especially coming from Caroline, was enough to reassure Jean. Jean thought that as long as she continued the mother her children the way she did now, she would establish a good enough relationship with them where they'd _never_ be fearful of her like they were with Alexandra.

-o-o-o-

"Did I ever mention to you that you're perfect?" Atticus asked her as they finally got settled for the evening. Both Jeremy and Scout had fallen asleep on the ride home, but immediately woke up once they got to their house, making it nearly impossible for Jean and Atticus to get them back to sleep. It was now late, and Jean was secretly thankful that tomorrow was a Saturday so that she could turn Atticus' alarm off, allowing him to sleep in the next morning.

Jean smirked as she crawled into bed next to him. "You must've done somethin' I won't like since you're bein' so kind."

"I mean it," he replied, smiling at her. "You're one of the best things in my life."

"Besides our children, of course."

"Of course."

"You're not too bad yourself," she replied, kissing him. "Now really, what have you done to prompt such flattery?"

"Nothin'," he replied sincerely. "I was just thinkin' how I'm lucky that Alexandra didn't make you go runnin' off with that Emmett all those years ago."

Jean couldn't help but to laugh. "Sweet, I thought you were a smart man," she said seriously. "Nothin' or no one would _ever_ take me away from you."

"I'm quite glad to see you don't regret marryin' an old man," he smirked.

"It was one of my better decisions, sweet." She replied honestly. "I'm equally happy to see you don't regret marryin' a child." She added, playing off of something she heard Alexandra say before Jean married Atticus (naturally, it was something she wasn't supposed to hear).

"Well," he began teasingly. "Sweet, I wouldn't change anything for the world."

She beamed at her husband. "Neither would I." She responded, knowing that she probably was one of the happiest women in the world.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: I wish this could've had a happy ending, but it was as though this story was cursed from the start. Thank you all for sticking through my very erratic updating, all of your support really meant the world to me! I actually wrote this chapter before all of the other ones, so it's still a little rough, but I feel like something like this should be a little rougher than the rest. Despite the fact that it's incredibly sad, I hope it's still something that's enjoyable for you all. Thank you all so much!

-o-o-o-

She was still warm when he found her.

He nearly screamed when he walked up the porch steps to find her lifeless body laying at the foot of her rocking chair. She must've been waiting for him to come home, he thought to himself as he fell to his knees beside her body. Her blonde hair spilled over her face as though she were sleeping, and there was a cut on the left side of her head where she must've hit it when she fell.

He had come home early that evening, but he should've come home earlier. She hadn't been feeling well that morning. She looked pale and shaky when she woke up, and he was alarmed to find that she couldn't lift Scout without losing her breath, which wasn't like her. She thought she was coming down with the flu, but it was obviously something much worse.

He didn't know what to do, so instead of getting help he sat on the porch and held his wife in his arms one last time. She was still warm.

"Jean," he said softly, but he knew she couldn't hear him. It looked like she was sleeping, though his heart sank when he was forced to realize she wasn't.

"Mista Finch, is that you?" Cal asked as she opened the front door. When _she_ saw Jean, she screamed. Calmly (almost too calmly) he looked up at her, Jean still draped in his lap.

"Cal, whattsa matter?" Jem said as he got closer, making Atticus start to panic.

"Honey, stay right there," she said, her voice shaking. "Don't you move one bit."

"Why?"

"Because I said so,"

"I want mama."

"Baby, go find your sister."

"But I want _mama_." He said.

"Jem, go play with the baby." Atticus' own voice didn't even sound familiar to him.

"Is mama out there?"

"Please, son."

Jeremy must have obliged because Cal came back into view. "Mista Finch," she said, tears forming in her eyes as she covered her mouth with her hand. "What—"

"Call Zeebo," he said, swallowing. "And Dr. Reynolds, let him know we're comin'."

"Yes, sir." She said grimly before she retreated away from the doorway. "Mista Finch?" She added, softly.

"Cal?"

"I'll stay as long as you need me to."

"I appreciate it, Cal."

She didn't say anything else as she went towards the phone. He wasn't sure if he had been hearing things, but he could have sworn he heard her sob.

Maybe there was a chance she was alive, he thought to himself, even though he could feel her body growing colder with each passing moment. Maybe they would take her to the hospital and Dr. Reynolds would find a small pulse and would be able to help her. Maybe he'd still have her.

 _You're a practical man_ , he thought to himself. _Stop imagining things_.

She was gone and he knew it, but he didn't want her to be. He barely had any time with her. Why, it had seemed just like yesterday when he saw her in his sister's dining room for the first time. It was just moments ago they had gotten married. They were supposed to live on some mountain in Switzerland when he retired.

And now he was alone.

That wasn't true. He had his babies—his heart nearly stopped when he thought of them. How was Jem going to react? Was Scout even going to remember her mother? Those thoughts alone were enough to fill him with fear.

"Don't go," he whispered, though he knew she couldn't hear him. "We still need you."

She wasn't warm anymore.

-o-o-o-

To him, it seemed as though years had passed from the time he had found her to when Doctor Reynolds confirmed Atticus' greatest fear: Jean was dead.

Atticus didn't cry as Doctor Reynolds grasped his shoulders and gave him a sullen look as he explained that it was a heart attack that killed her. The same thing that killed her father and sister before her. He should've known, should've done _something_ to prevent this. But could anything really prevent it?

He still didn't cry when he called home, telling Cal that Jean was dead and asking if she could please spend the night. She sobbed, he comforted her. Cal _loved_ Jean and told Atticus about how she considered Jean a dear, dear friend to her. He still didn't cry.

He realized he was stalling when he called Alexandra next. He should've called Edith, or Harriet, or Louise or one of the aunts and yet he called his sister. "Hancock residence," Alexandra said breathily after what seemed like an eternity.

"Jean's dead," he whispered. He wanted to cry, but he didn't.

He heard his sister make a gasping noise on the other end. "What?" She asked, sounding astonished.

"Jean's—"

"Sweet, don't," she whispered. "Sweet, I'm so—"

"Don't say sorry,"

"But I am,"

"I don't want you to be," his throat was thick, he sounded like a stranger.

"How?" She whispered.

"Her heart."

"I'm sorry," Alexandra said as she sniffed. "Honey, what do you need?"

"My wife."

"Sweet, um," she stammered. He imagined her standing in her kitchen, wringing her hands as she tried to find something to say. He found that his sister was never quite good in situations like this.

"I'm sorry," he said, closing his eyes tightly.

"I'll come, I'll help." She offered immediately, her voice sounding higher in pitch. If there was one thing he valued the most about his sister, it was the fact that she _always_ came. "I'll call Caroline and Jack—don't you dare worry about that, sweet."

He found that all he could say was "please."

He hung up the receiver and he knew who he had to call, but he didn't want to. He felt like a child again, foolishly afraid of something that he had to do. He couldn't remember the last time he had been afraid, but now all he knew was the constant feeling of dread and terror. Sighing, he picked up the receiver. The moment he felt the warm metal in his hands, he almost hung it up again. He couldn't help but to smile, thinking of the time when Jean first came to Maycomb and had to call on Mrs. Dubose. She had picked the receiver up quickly and hung it up almost immediately before actually calling the woman. _She_ had been afraid, just as he was at this very moment.

The operator on the other side must have been getting annoyed because Atticus could hear her calling "hello? _Hello_?" despite the fact that he wasn't even using the earpiece.

"I need to be transferred to Montgomery, Alabama." He said, his voice still thick.

It felt as though time slowed to a crawl as he asked to be transferred, and as the phone rang and rang and rang Atticus found himself increasingly wishing that he could just be swallowed up by the earth.

"Jean?" Louise asked suddenly, making Atticus' heart sink even further. "I get calls from you two days in a row? Why, you must really be likin' me this week!"

He inhaled sharply. In just a few seconds, he was going to turn Louise's world upside down.

"Hello?" She asked, her voice growing more serious in tone.

"It's Atticus," he finally said, trying to stop himself from sounding upset.

"Well, isn't this a nice surprise!" She exclaimed. _No, it's not_ , he thought to himself. "What's goin' on?"

He found himself unable to speak again, he found himself overwhelmed. "Atticus?" Louise asked, her tone growing more serious. "Atticus, what's happenin'?"

His eyes burned as he exhaled shakily. Though he was on solid land, he felt as if he was stuck in the deepest of oceans, drowning. "Jean," he managed to say as he attempted to steady his voice. "Jean, um,"

He was always the image of professionality. He always ensured that he was calm and collected no matter what the circumstance, but at this moment he found that all of his stability was gone. _She_ was the one to keep him grounded, to keep him as collected as he was. She was gone, he was never going to see her again.

"Honey?" Louise asked, a new sense of urgency in her voice. He held his breath, he wasn't being fair to her.

"She died," he told her, no longer able to stop himself from crying. He wasn't certain, but he was almost sure that he heard her make a throaty noise on the other end. He felt a wave of shame for the way he told her, thinking that he probably should have been kinder, gentler. But either way the message would have been the same. "She, um, it was—"

"Her heart?" She asked, she was crying now. There was a weird sense of innocence to her voice, as if she was a child asking her parent something excruciating. It made him sadder.

"Yeah," he whispered, nodding his head despite the fact that she couldn't see him.

They didn't talk for what seemed to be hours. Instead, the two of them silently cried into their respective receivers. Alexandra would've _cringed_ at the sight of any Finch openly weeping like this, but Atticus didn't care.

"I-I'm gonna leave," Louise said, coughing. "I'll come r-right away."

When she said that, he felt a strange sense of relief. _Louise_ had been closest to Jean, her being there would _almost_ be like having Jean back. Though, in the back of his mind he knew that was impossible.

For once in his life, Atticus couldn't think of anything to say. The only other time he'd ever been like that was when he was first courting Jean. She was just so _young_ and him so much older and he was terrified that if he said the wrong thing she wouldn't find him interesting anymore and would leave. He remembered the sense of relief he had when she told him she found everything he said interesting and he figured _that's_ when he knew that she wouldn't ever leave.

But she left him. Not by her own choice, but she was still gone.

He thought of when his mother died, and how his father could hardly bear to look at his children after that. He remembered how he and Alexandra, at the ages of ten and seven, pretended to be Caroline's parents after that. Yet still, Caroline pined for a mother she could hardly remember and had her heart broken time and time again by a father who was there, yet could hardly acknowledge her.

His mind drifted to Scout, Jean's miracle, and he grew petrified. His daughter was only a year younger than Caroline was when their mother died. Scout adored her mama, and Atticus found himself increasingly nervous—how do you rationalize with a two-year-old about the death of her mother? How do you explain that mama isn't coming back? Soon Scout, just as Caroline before her, will forget her mother and how she looked, how she smelled, and just how terribly much she loved her daughter. And what will happen to Jem? He was six now, just a year younger than Alexandra was when their mother died. Atticus remembered even at such a young age, Alexandra shut herself off. In taking on the responsibility as Caroline's "mother", Alexandra grew up the day their mother died. Atticus didn't want that for his son. He didn't want this to ruin his son.

"I just talked to her yesterday," Louise whispered, breaking the silence. "She seemed _fine_."

"I don't think she felt well this morning." He whispered, overwhelmed by guilt. "I should've stayed home, I should've _done something_."

"Honey," her voice was higher in pitch, and it almost sounded as if she were pleading with him. "Don't blame yourself."

"I'm sorry."

There was silence again. He heard her shuffling around on the other end, and he didn't even want to imagine the look of sheer anguish on her face. He couldn't help but to wonder if she would tell Phil about this, or simply leave for Maycomb unexplained.

"I haven't told Edith," he muttered, dreading the next phone call he'd have to make.

"Do you want me to tell her?" She replied, sniffing. "She's at Aunt Bea's—I can just grab Hattie and go over there and tell them. Mama's got herself a new car, we'll leave tonight."

"I should tell her," he replied. "She's going to hate me."

"Atticus," she nearly whimpered. "Atticus, why would she hate you?"

"I don't know—I'm sorry, I just can't even think."

"She _adores_ you," she said, her voice cracking. "She always will."

He dreaded her hanging up, because he knew that he was no longer able to avoid calling Edith any longer. Despite the fact that it was the last thing he wanted to do, he knew he had to bear this terrible news to her. Slowly, he picked up the receiver and requested to be transferred to Bea's line.

"Hello?" Bea asked.

"Is Edith there?" He responded, his voice hoarse.

"Who is this?" She asked, and he realized that she probably couldn't even recognize his voice at that moment.

"It's Atticus,"

He could hear her inhale from the other line. He suspected that she knew that something terrible had happened. "Honey, are you alright?"

He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. Certainly, he was _not_ alright, but how do you put that in a polite manner? "Something's happened." He said, fighting back tears for what seemed to be the _thousandth_ time that day.

"Are the children alright?" She asked quickly, her voice becoming more panicked. Almost instantaneously, he could hear Edith's voice in the background. She must have been asking what was wrong, and as the time drew nearer for him to tell her, he felt his heart racing.

"T-they're fine," he swallowed. "Jean—"

"Dear God,"

"It was a heart attack," his voice was cracking again. How many times did he have to say this? How many people did he need to share the worst day of his life with?

From the other line, he heard Bea mumble the words _Jean, heart attack, dead_ to Edith and then there was silence. He stood there, leaning heavily against the wall with the receiver pressed to his ear waiting for something, _anything_.

"Sweet," Edith finally said. Though it didn't sound like she was crying, her voice sounded soft, distant. Not the usual confident tone of his mother-in-law. "Sweet, I'm _sorry_."

She was sorry for him? A pang of guilt rushed through him—he should be sorry for _her_. The woman who lost her husband, her grandchild, and her two daughters all before she was supposed to. "I-I," he began, not knowing what to say to her.

"Where are you?" She asked softly.

"I'm still at the hospital,"

"Go _home_ ," she told him. "Honey, go home and just rest. I'll be—"

Suddenly, there was a pause. Although the background noise coming from the other line was significantly faded out, he could make out the sounds of a door slamming open and despaired voices. Edith must not have covered the receiver all of the way because he heard her saying _Harriet, Harriet_ over and over again until all went silent again. Louise had been fast to tell her sister.

"I'm sorry," she coughed. "Louise and Harriet just came in. But I was sayin', we'll be there tonight, honey."

He felt immensely heavy. As though he was being weighed down by rocks or something far larger than himself, and he wanted his wife. "I, thank—"

"You're my _son_ , honey," she told him, a hint of sadness riddled in her voice. "You don't need to thank me."

She had told him she loved him (he couldn't recall her ever saying that in the eight years that he'd been married to Jean) and that she'd be there by late evening. Before hanging up, with a cracking voice, she informed him that years ago she had bought burial plots for Jean, him and the children in Montgomery where her late husband, daughter and grandson were put to rest. She said Jean didn't have to be buried there, but he could sense how much she wanted it, which is why he said yes. _At least she'd still be with family_ , he thought to himself.

His mind gravitated to Simon, the little boy he'd never met but who had such importance in Jean's life that he felt that Simon was now a part of _him_ too. Maybe, he thought, maybe now Jean would get to know from Simon himself that what happened was _never_ her fault. He _hoped_ that was the case.

It was still bright outside when he finally left the hospital. It was quite a ways walk from his house, but he still declined Doctor Reynold's offer of a ride. He was going to walk home, just as he did from everywhere else.

The first thing he thought as he slowly trudged down the street, aching as though he had just been hit by a car, was that he wanted to die. He knew he didn't mean it, that once he was home and saw his children he would know that he would slowly be able to get back to some sense of normalcy, but he just _couldn't_ imagine his life without Jean. He didn't want to imagine it.

It should've been him who died first, he thought. She was far too young for something like this to happen. He wondered, sadly, if she was able to get everything she wanted out of life. Was she happy when she died? Did she know what was happening, or were her final moments full of fear? He should've gotten home earlier, he should've been there. He didn't want to think these things, especially since he did not know the truth, but he couldn't help but to let his mind wander. Did his children know that mama wouldn't be coming home?

As he finally made his way through the center of town, he could sense people staring at him. He could not be certain that people knew about Jean, but they certainly looked concerned to see him at his present state. The usually well-composed Atticus Finch was in shambles, and it was utterly obvious that his life was falling apart. He was thankful, however, when nobody said anything to him. At least they let the broken man go home in peace.

Slowly and tiredly, feeling as though years were shaved from his life, Atticus finally walked away from town and was closer to his neighborhood. While it looked the same, he knew that it would never be the same for him. He had chosen this neighborhood to live in before they were married because he knew it was a place where'd Jean be comfortable—it was near her cousin, it had good people… but, it lost the best person of all. _Her._

Maybe he should move, he thought foolishly as he passed Maudie's house. Maybe he should pack the children up and move them somewhere else, move them far away. But he knew the grief would chase him everywhere he went for the rest of his life. There was no escaping it.

The first thing he did as he walked up the porch steps was grab the rocker that she had been sitting in, and hid it in the car house. He couldn't get the image of her body lying there out of his mind and he thought that maybe if he moved the chair then it'd go away, but it didn't. He would always just see her lying there.

When he opened the door he heard Maudie's voice, she was reading to the children. Jem and Scout happily laughed with each other while Maudie herself sounded devastated. Cal must've told her, he thought, immensely grateful for the presence of his wife's cousin. "Oh, honey," she had said, trying to stand up (Scout was draped over her lap, her face flushed from laughing). "Honey…" her own face was red and her eyes sad.

He opened his mouth, but said nothing. He thought that if he said anything, he'd surely break. It was as if he had been reduced to a glass doll, already broken and increasingly fragile. "Cal's preparin' suppers for you," she said softly. "And she cleaned everything in the house and is gettin' things set up for the…" she trailed off, too sad to continue her thought.

"Zandra's coming," he said hoarsely. "And the rest of your family."

She nodded grimly. "Caroline's called a couple of times for you," she informed him. "I told her you might not be up for it, but—"

"I'll be right back," he responded tersely, making his way towards the telephone. He couldn't help but notice that Jem's cheerful demeanor had diminished. Atticus couldn't help but to think that he should've tried harder to look less upset, but how could he do that _now_?

He didn't have to wait long for Caroline to pick up. It was almost as if she had been waiting by the phone for him to call. "Atticus?" She asked urgently, her voice thick with sadness.

"Liney," he said, using the pet name he hadn't used in years. He heard her let out a shaky breath.

"I'm comin' with Ruthie," she said silently. "We're leavin' first thing tomorrow, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"You don't need to rush yourself," he said, trying to sound normal.

"If I could, I'd be there now," she said. "You _always_ did that for me. Listen, I just wanted to say somethin'…"

"What's that?"

She let out another shuddering breath, as if she was trying not to cry. "I'll move with you," she said quickly, almost desperately. "Ruthie's goin' to be movin' out soon and I can come to Maycomb and live with you and help you with the children—"

"You _hated_ Maycomb,"

"But I love _you_ and the children," she retorted quickly. "Sweet," she paused again, a small sob escaping her mouth. "I don't mean to upset you more than you already are." She was crying now, but all Atticus could feel was exhaustion. "I just know how much Jean loved both of those babies, and I know Jem'll remember her and know that she loved him but," she compressed a sob again. "Honey, she _loved_ Scout _so much_ and she won't even remember it and now that I see that it just kills me because there's just _a lot_ of guilt that comes with not rememberin' a woman who loved you that much… Atticus—I don't even remember lovin' mama and I don't want Scout growin' up thinkin' she's an awful person for not rememberin' her." He couldn't help but to cry again as his sister sobbed on the other line.

"I'm sorry," she pleaded. "Honey, I shouldn't have said anything but I just wanted to tell you that'd I'd do it, I'd move there—I'd tell Scout that it's fine—"

"I can't," he said, feeling as though he couldn't breathe. "Liney, I _can't_."

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I shouldn't have—"

"You're right," he said, inhaling deeply in an attempt to get air. "I understand what you're saying—I just _can't_."

"I'm here," she responded thickly. "Atticus, I'm _always_ here."

"I know." He responded before they gave their farewells and hung up the receivers. Tiredly, he leaned against the wall, his eyes pressed tightly shut. He was going to be normal for the children, he swore, he was going to act completely normal.

Slowly, he collected himself and went to the living room, where the children were still draped over Maudie. She had stopped reading, but Jean Louise was babbling nonsense to her brother, who pretended to be listening intently. He brought himself to the ground, kneeling besides the sofa so that he would be at level with his son. Little did the young boy know that his life was about to change forever.

"I missed you, Atticus," Jeremy said, smiling his toothless smile. He rested his palm on top of his son's soft, light brown hair. It wasn't until that moment he realized just how much Jem looked like Jean.

"Missed you, too," he responded in a strained voice as Scout began slapping her small hands on top of his own, making Jeremy smile just a little bit wider.

"Mama," she said, her eyes squinting as she smiled. Maudie exhaled shakily, flashing Atticus a sympathetic look before running her fingers through the toddler's hair.

"Mama's sick," Jem explained to his sister in a serious tone as he wrapped her little hand within his own, making Atticus' heart break even further. Jean Louise pretended to cough—something that Jean had done in order to get the baby to hug her. Going along with the game, Jem hugged his sister, who cheerily went: "dank you, Jemmy!" in response.

"When is mama comin' home?" Jeremy asked curiously, as hot tears formed in Atticus' eyes once again.

"Um," he cleared his throat. "Baby," he said slowly, trying to figure out how to tell a six-year-old that his mama was never coming home. "Mama got _too_ sick,"

"What does that mean?" He asked, the brightness in his eyes slowly dimming and the smile completely gone from his face. Though he could not see her, Atticus could hear Maudie crying.

"She can't come home," he explained, his voice breaking ever so slightly. Jem's eyes grew wide. "She had to… her heart… baby, she went up with God now." He was crying again, and the mixture of the information that was just delivered to him as well as his father's reaction caused a pout to grow on Jem's face. Almost at once, tears made their way down his cheek.

"But…but…" he said, his little voice even smaller. "What are we goin' to _do_?"

The only person who wasn't crying was Scout, who instead looked curiously at the people around them. Instead of answering him, Atticus reached and pulled Jeremy out of Maudie's arms (almost like Jean had done to _him_ when Jeremy was born) and held his son close to him. As the little boy silently cried in his father's chest, he reached and grabbed his daughter, who cried not because her mother was gone but because she had been taken off guard by her father's actions. As he sat there with his children, he felt himself go numb from emotion—he had felt so much that day it was as though he wouldn't be able to feel anything else but that horrifying _emptiness_.

And, at that point, he was not sure what they were going to do.


End file.
